


The Challenge of Being Them

by jlillymoon



Series: The Challenges [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:37:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 86,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlillymoon/pseuds/jlillymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up from where the Challenge of Being Us left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pursuit of Evil

**Author's Note:**

> Ok- so this is the first part. It is finally ready and I am still working hard on the rest. It's coming along, but it's slower than the first. Trying to figure out all the nuances and I am having issues with some research. Damn these lofty ideas in my head. But please enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer- I do not own the characters... wish I did some days.

Chapter 1- The Pursuit of Evil

Sherlock looked out into the midmorning air as the plane climbed up and away from the private airfield. He had just said goodbye to Mary and to his best friend. His brother estimated he would be dead within six months. He again was dying to save his friends. But this was not a death where he had control. He couldn’t think his way out of this.  
The plane was still banking when the steward handed him a phone. It was Mycroft already. He was needed on the ground. Mycroft sounded a bit shaken. ‘Was it sentiment?’ Sherlock asked himself. Or whatever happened in the four minutes he was gone had truly scared him.  
Sherlock felt the shudder as the plane touched down and he was out of his seat and at the door before the plane stopped. John and Mary were standing on the side and Mycroft was speaking into his phone. Sherlock deplaned and looked at the newlyweds.  
“What happened?” Sherlock asked. Mycroft was walking away from him. His shoulders were square and he was rigid.  
“Moriarty.” John said. Sherlock thought there might be a hint of a smile at his lips, but he was trying to be serious. It was not what Sherlock expected to hear from his lips. Anthea came over with an iPad and showed Sherlock the same thing that all of England was watching. John’s phone rang. He extracted it from his pocket. “Lestrade.”  
“What the bloody fucking hell is going on?” Lestrade asked.  
“That’s what we would like to know.” John answered.  
“Are you with… did he leave….” Lestrade knew that Sherlock was being exiled.  
“He’s back. Mycroft asked him to come back and fix this.” John said.  
“Good.” Lestrade felt better that Sherlock was around.  
************************************************  
Sherlock and John spent the next month chasing lead after lead. There was no signs of Moriarty. He was dead. But as soon as they found one lead, it was cold. Whoever was pulling the strings was ten steps ahead. But as quickly as it all happened, it was all over. Moriarty or whoever had sent the video was gone. The trail was dead. Then Mary died.  
*************************************************  
Mycroft was missing. He had only been missing for three hours, but he was still missing. Sherlock loved his brother, but he wasn’t emotional about it. His ability to detach himself from the case was very helpful. John was more worried about Harry and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. He wanted to run the leads with Sherlock and Lestrade, but he felt the pull back to Baker Street as well.  
The three men were in Lestrade’s office, trying to figure out what the next move was. They were able to find CCTV footage of a panel van arriving and leaving the area of Baker Street twenty minutes around the time Mycroft had disappeared. But the trail was cold. Too many turns. Too many streets. Too many options.  
Sherlock was slumped in a chair, hiding in his mind palace. John was leaning against the desk, clutching his phone. He had been texting with Anthea since her arrival at 221B Baker Street. John sighed.  
“Greg, if I promise to come back for him at some point, would you be terrible pissed if I went back to the flat to check on things there?” Greg looked up from the maps on his desk, trying to figure out how wide to make the search area.  
“Hmmm?” Lestrade answered, not really hearing John at first. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll text or call if there are any changes.” John nodded and went to Sherlock. He watched his face for a moment. He decided not to disturb him and sent his mobile a text as he went out of NYS and hailed a cab.  
“Going back to the flat to check on everyone. I’ll be back soon. I love you. Be careful. X-JW”  
John settled back in the cab, worried about the current pursuit of evil. Moran and Moriarty were such a thorn in their sides, they weren’t sure if this was ever going to end. John wanted his gun, but he felt safer with it at Baker Street. He wondered if Anthea was armed or if she knew how to shoot.  
“Are you armed? Do know how to use a gun? –JW”  
“Dr. Watson, I am proficient in multiple fire arms. I am currently hiding a Sig on my body. We are more than safe. Are you needing a fire arm?- A”  
“I have my service pistol. I was just wondering. But thanks. – JW”  
“I am on my way to the flat. Do you need anything?-JW” John laughed as he sent the text. Anthea was anything but needy. She most likely had everything she could need and then some.  
“We are fine. Thank you.- A”  
John put his phone in his pocket and watched out the window as he drove through London. He wondered where Mycroft was at that moment.


	2. The In Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Search for Mycroft continues.

Chapter 2- The In Laws.

John arrived at the flat and let himself in. He saw Anthea standing in the shadows at the top of the first landing and he raised his hand in greeting. She relaxed and waited for him to come up the stairs. In all the years he had known Anthea, she was nothing but professional. Tonight, she was not. Her long brown hair looked ragged, as if she had been dragging her hands through it repeatedly. Her skirt was wrinkled and she was shoeless. She was haggard around the edges. John stopped at the top of the stairs.  
“You okay?” he asked. She shook her head at the same time saying “Yes.” John nodded once.  
“Harry?”   
“Lloyd left an hour ago. She’s quiet. But she’s not drinking.”  
“Good.” John took a deep breath and went into the sitting room. Anthea followed, pushing her skirt back down. John knew she was replacing the gun she kept on her inner thigh.  
Harry was curled up on John’s chair, looking small and broken. John went to her and her eyes fell on his face. He shook his head. Martha and Ben Holmes were sitting on the sofa, holding tea cups that had long ago gone cold. They didn’t move when John came to them and kissed Martha and shook Ben’s hand.  
“Any word?” Martha asked. John shook his head and sat down on the low table.  
“Nothing more at this time. Sherlock and Detective Inspector Lestrade are working on it.”  
“What…. Why…?” Martha couldn’t formulate the questions in her head.  
“I wish I knew.” John said sounding resigned. He was tired and he was sure that it was going to be a long couple of days. Anthea, the model of efficiency thrust a cup of tea in his hand. “Ta.”  
Harry started to make little noises and ran to her room. John watched her go and turned back to Martha and Ben.  
“I’m sorry. My sister feels upset. Mycroft recently helped her with… a problem.” John didn’t want to betray Mycroft or Harry at this point.  
“I understand. He is such a helpful man.” Ben said. Martha turned her head into her husband and began to cry.  
“Anthea, can you help me for a minute?” John asked. He climbed the stairs to his and Sherlock’s bedroom. Anthea was right behind him.  
“I will stay.” Anthea said. John nodded. He stripped the bed he shared with Sherlock and Anthea helped him put on clean sheets and remake it.  
“Mr. and Mrs. Holmes can sleep here. Harry has her room. You can stay at Mrs. Hudson’s if you wish.” John said.  
“Thank you, but the sofa will be fine.” John nodded and pulled out extra blankets and pillows for her. They went back to the sitting room. It was late.  
“Martha, Ben, as a doctor, I recommend you get some sleep or at least go lay down. This is the worst part of the case. The waiting. From experience, sleeping when you can or at least taking the time to change position to laying down helps. Please, take our bed upstairs.” He said. Martha was wiping her eyes and she nodded. Ben stood up and pulled John into an embrace.  
“Find him. Please.” John hugged him back.  
“We will.” Martha gave him a kiss and started for the stairs.  
“Anthea will be here if you need anything.” John said as they walked up for the night. John rubbed his tired eyes. Anthea nodded and went to the bathroom to get herself ready for some sleep. John waited a beat until he was alone.  
John went over to the bookcase that was behind Sherlock’s side of the desk. He pulled down a book and reached towards the back of the case.  
“What are you doing?” Harry asked. John had heard her come into the room. He extracted his gun from its current hiding place and checked the chamber. It wasn’t loaded. He shifted and other book and took out another gun, one that he had pulled out of Mary’s go bag. He repeated the action. He settled down at the desk and began to load the clips with the bullets he had also hidden in the bookcase.  
“I’m putting the rounds in my gun and in Mary’s.” John said coolly. Harry nodded. “Are you alright?”  
“I’m managing. I would love nothing better than to get drunk and pass out. It would be easier than trying function while I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest.” John nodded.  
“Been there. Done that.” He said. Harry sat down and lit a cigarette.  
“John, do you think he’s alright?” Harry asked.  
“I’m sure he’s better than we think.” John said. He silently hoped that he was right.  
Anthea came into the room and sat down on the sofa. John put the clip in the gun and fed one into the chamber. He stood and put it in the back of his waistband, the cold metal centering him as it touched his flushed skin.  
“I need to get back.” John said. Harry nodded. “Har, Anthea is here. She will be staying. I promise. We are doing everything we can to find him.”  
***************************************

John left the flat returning to New Scotland Yard. He passed Donovan in the hall. She stopped him.  
“The freak and Lestrade are in the briefing room.” She said. John nodded. Sally looked as if she wanted to say something else.   
“Just spit it out.” John said, his level of irritation climbing. He hadn’t forgiven her for the insults she gave to the press months earlier.  
“I don’t know how you are doing it. But the freak is well… less freaky. He hasn’t said a word in over four hours.”  
“That’s not that unusual. He often speaks when he is at crime scenes just to irritate you and Anderson. But, this is his brother. He’s upset.” John said.  
“Mycroft scares the shit out of me.” She admitted.  
“I think that’s his plan.” John said, leaving the sergeant standing in the hall. John found the briefing room and went to Sherlock’s side. He was more alert than he was when he left, but he was quiet. The scary quiet that John didn’t often see and was always worried about.  
“Alright then?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes. How are you?” Sherlock shrugged and John leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. John reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out the Sig that he had stolen from his wife. He pressed it into Sherlock’s hand. “Promise you will be safe.”  
Sherlock felt the weight of both the vow and the deadly steel in his hand. “I promise.” John sat down and listened to the rest of Lestrade’s briefing. They were sending out patrols to search areas that they were able to narrow down, but John felt Sherlock bristling beside him.  
“What?” he asked. Sherlock pursed his lips.  
“He’s not in any of these places.”  
“How do you know?”  
“I just do.” Sherlock took a deep breath in and let it out in a controlled manner. John wasn’t sure what else there was to do at NYS.  
“What about looking at the scene again?” he offered. Sherlock got up and they left for the small street that ran along the alleyways that reached out to Baker Street proper. The settled into a cab and Anthea’s alert came to John’s phone.  
“Mrs. Holmes is inconsolable. She just got a message on her phone.” John showed Sherlock the message that was forwarded to his phone. It was a dark picture. But it was Mycroft. Bloodied, swollen and alive. At least for the moment. The written text that came over a moment later was bone chilling.  
“Mummy’s boy isn’t playing nicely. He may need a time out. “  
“Baker Street. 221B” Sherlock spat at the cabbie. His hands were beginning to shake. They forwarded the message to Lestrade.   
“WTF?!” was the message back from Lestrade. “Where are you?”  
“On our way back to Baker Street.- JW”  
“On my way too.-GL”  
Sherlock stared out the window and John had to nudge him to get him out of the cab when they got back to Baker Street. Sherlock went into the flat and straight up the stairs. Anthea was sitting at the desk, her deft hands flying across her laptop, working the image. Harry was sitting on the low table, trying to help Ben console his wife. Her shrieks became louder when Sherlock came into the room. He went to his mother and took him into his thin arms.  
“Sherlock! Who would do this to your brother? What wrong has he cause him?” his mother wailed.  
“I am working on it.” Sherlock soothed his mother. John noted a tear run down Ben’s face. And Harry turned to him and embraced him in a hug. “John, I think my mother would like a cup of your special tea.” John nodded.  
John normally condoned putting medications in food or drinks and hiding it from unsuspecting people. But Sherlock was right. Martha needed a balm that only a night of sleep would do at this point. He crushed a tablet and brought her a cup of tea. Sherlock was sitting between his parents on the sofa.  
“Sherlock, why don’t you see what Anthea has.” John suggested. He sat with Harry on the low table, and Sherlock put his hand on John’s shoulder as he passed. It was a tender move.  
“John, you are so good to us.” Ben said.   
“You are family. Mycroft is family. This is what family does.” He said. Ben nodded.  
“This is one of those rare times that I am thankful that Mycroft doesn’t have anyone in his life. I don’t think I could stand here and function if something happened to Ben.” Martha stated. Harry’s face dropped and she ran to her room. Sherlock looked up from the computer and shot John a look.  
“What was that?” Sherlock asked.  
“I was just saying how much harder it would be if Mycroft had a…. well… someone he loved like you have John.” His mother explained. Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh.  
“Mother, Mycroft has someone.” He said and went back to working on the image with Anthea.  
“John, did you know this?” Martha asked. Ben rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the best conversation to be having, but at least Martha wasn’t sobbing any longer.  
“I did. I only found out recently myself.” John answered. Recent was a relative term. Ben’s eyes shot up to John and then flicked towards Harry’s room. Martha hadn’t seen it yet.   
“John, please go check on Harry.” Ben instructed. “See if you can coax her out here again. I would very much like to talk to her.” John nodded and got up to see to his sister. He heard Ben murmuring to Martha as he left the room and a gasp at the point that John figured was the moment that Ben let her in on the secret.  
John stood outside the door to Sherlock’s old room and knocked softly. He opened the door and found his sister rocking a bit on the bed.  
“Harry.” He said. Her eyes came up and looked at her brother. He sat down on the bed and took her into his arms.  
“I’m sorry.” She said. “They must think me mad.”  
“No. Ben figured it out. No one had to tell him.” It was almost the truth. John heard Lestrade come into the flat and his voice mixing with Sherlock’s as they worked in the far corner. “Ben would like to speak to you.”  
“It’s been a difficult evening.” She said. “I just want to wail and cry. But it would look like I had gone round the bend. It’s not my place to tell the parents that I have been secretly dating their son.”  
“I know. But it’s all over now. Come on.” He said. Harry nodded and put down the waist coat she had been holding. It was one of Mycroft’s.  
Harry and John came into the sitting room and Martha nearly knocked Harry over as she came and hugged her tightly.  
“Harriet. I had no idea.” She said as she squeezed the woman. “Mycroft never said.”  
“I know.” She said. Martha settled her into the sofa between them and cooed with her for a while. Harry was finally able to show her grief and concern in public. John went over to the desk and listened as his sister met her boyfriend’s parents. It was a strange satire of the meet the parent’s scene that was always in the movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hail hail almost the whole gang is here. I know these chapters are short, but I am working on it. This second half is getting more and more complicated with so many stories inside of the story.... But I'm trying. Writing, editing.... really could use a beta. Volunteers?   
> Keep the comments coming, as they help fuel my desire to keep writing!  
> Thanks for reading.....


	3. Far and Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in on Mycroft as we continue the search for him.

Chapter 3- Far and Away

Mycroft was unconscious for his trip to his holding area. The abductor had cracked his head hard and he was sure that he had a concussion. But that was the least of the problems. He could ascertain he was still in London, but far from the center of town. He knew that the building he was being held in was older, possibly post war and abandoned. It was ground level and smaller. About five to seven rooms. Possibly an old store house. It was dirty, there were leaks that left puddles of stale water. He was tied to a sturdy metal chair, his wrists pulled down at his sides and twisted with medium gage wire. Too thick to break but not too heavy to twist tightly. His ankles were pulled out and behind him and similarly bound. There was no way to stand.  
Moran had punched him a few times and his eye was bleeding in addition to the slow trickle that came from the space where his ear had been removed. Moran was sitting on a low table about ten feet from him, texting on his phone. Mycroft knew that he had taken a photo and was most likely sending it to someone as proof of life.  
“Bas, what do you want?” Mycroft asked, his voice hoarse and he could taste the copper metallic blood in his mouth.   
“I want you to suffer. I want to pick you apart for a while, then I will pick apart your family. One by one.”  
“To what end? Because I wronged you in the past? Because your sister protected her husband? Because my brother destroyed Moriarty and his network?” Mycroft laughed until he coughed from the punches to his side. “My family is stronger than you think.”  
“Jim was my family. Mary? Fuck the bitch. I’m glad she’s dead. King did me a favor by acting on orders to take her out. My brother in law the good doctor? He’s going to die. Simple as that. Easy. Sherlock too. But I want to have you alive. Alive and hurting. To look in the mirror every day and be reminded of the pain. Of the loss. The loss of the things I took from you. And as I rise in Jim’s place, I will be invincible. I will have weakened the might Mycroft Holmes.”  
“Doubtful.”  
“I’m just sorry that Annie is gone. I really would have like for you to have someone in your life that I could take away from you. Again. But your brother and his doctor will have to do.” Mycroft’s mind immediately went to Harry. He was glad she was with his brother and John. They would keep her safe.  
Moran hopped down from the table and checked his phone as he walked over towards Mycroft. Mycroft’s swollen eye prevented him from seeing it coming, but the blow of the brass hit in the side of his head and he slipped into unconsciousness. 

************************************

John had Martha’s phone in his pocket. There was no need for her to have it if Moran was going to send her the messages. She had fallen asleep thanks to the medication John had snuck her. Harry went to her room and Ben followed his wife. Anthea was working with Sherlock trying to figure out the location that the picture had been taken. John sat in his chair and dozed off. He awoke to Sherlock’s touch on his face.  
“John, we found the van.” John’s eyes snapped open. Sherlock nodded and John got up from the chair. Lestrade was standing in the center of the room, talking on his mobile phone. John shook his head. There was something bothering him about the ease of finding the van.  
“Too easy.” John said. And Sherlock looked at him, his head tilted.  
“What’s too easy?”  
“Finding the van.” John yawned. “Moran is a professional. Even if he had help, leaving the van to be found…. It’s too easy.” Sherlock looked stunned.  
“Jesus. You’re right.”   
“Someone should still check it out. But it’s not right. Moran is too smart. It’s a red herring.” John said sitting back down. Sherlock sat in his chair across from John, his fingers pressed to his lips.  
“I’ll go with my team to check it out. I’ll call if there is something….” Greg said as he left the flat. John nodded and closed his eyes again. Sherlock said nothing.  
“Do you think this is related to Moriarty’s television appearance?” John asked, his eyes still closed. Sherlock made a noise that could be taken either as a yes or a no. “I mean, this could be all related. A way to get you back to London, make us feel secure and boom.”  
“A plan.”  
“Exactly. Maybe this has been planned over and over again. This is personal.” John said. 

*******************************************  
“This is personal” Mycroft thought as he drifted in and out of reality. His mouth was dry and filled with the sour taste of blood. His tongue was thick and his head ached in a way that was disturbing. Moran had left him, but Mycroft could feel the eyes that were watching him for somewhere else. He tried to make his brain work and to turn his head, to take in what he could of the room he was being held in, but the lighting was low and artificial. His head throbbed as he turned it. There was no new information to learn. He hoped that Sherlock was looking for him.   
Moran came back into the room, with a bottle of water. He let out a stream into Mycroft’s mouth. It was a blessing.  
“Drink up. I don’t want you getting dehydrated quite yet.” Moran said. Mycroft knew that Moran expected this to be a long process. He worried about Sherlock and John. He wondered about his parent’s safety. He let his thoughts drift. He head wasn’t able to stay focused. He was looking at the world sideways. Not his normal perspective.   
Mycroft never felt the actual object that hit is left knee. But he did feel the pain that ran through his blood like wild fire. He felt the immediate response and tried to shift, the wire holding him in place digging into his skin. The flow of warm blood beginning to soak into shirt cuffs and socks.   
“Might as well give you a limp to go with that bloody umbrella you are always carrying. It will serve as a nice cane.” Moran said. Mycroft’s breathing was staggered as he tried to calm his body.  
“Who gave you that?” Mycroft asked, trying to draw out of Moran where is anger came from. He nodded at the scar that lined his face.  
“What this?” Moran asked, running his fingers down the line. “This was a gift. A gift you gave me when I worked for you last. A parting reminder that no one was looking out for me when I needed it. A reminder that you left me, burnt and alone.” Mycroft found it. Moran had been burned. His cover left.  
“Our intelligence had you dead.” Mycroft stated.  
“Oh, Myc. You know that I can’t be killed. Your brother and his doctor tried months ago. After I drew him back with my little video.” Mycroft knew that it was Moran who staged the Moriarty video.  
“You knew I sent Sherlock away.”  
“Of course. I knew that was the only logical choice for you.”  
“Logical.”  
“You are an old man. You wouldn’t have wanted your brother dead. You care for him too deeply. But I needed to let you know that I was onto you.” Moran said. He leaned against the table again, Mycroft noting a small change in his breathing.  
“How long do you plan on keeping me?” he needed to know what his time line was. Sebastian hadn’t changed enough in the years since they worked together. Mycroft knew his weakness. Bragging.  
“As long as I need to. Soon, soon enough, Sherlock will figure out where you are. I left the right clues. And then when you all feel safe, I will take them one by one. You won’t know when. I plan on playing this chess game out over a long time. This isn’t going to be a quick game.”  
“The chess game.” Mycroft stated. The one he found in the flat that Mary kept. It was Moran who had been playing it. “You were showing Mary what your plan was.”  
“She hated chess you know. But it was an old form of communication between us. She was always black. She said it reminded her of her soul.”  
“You took the black king to tell her something.” Moran nodded.  
“Putting it all together.”  
“Yes.” Mycroft said. Moran walked across the room and pulled out the knife in his pocket. He ran the tip along Mycroft’s face.  
“But the code. That’s the important part. I’m going to leave you to figure it out.” Moran said. He took the knife and turned. He stopped and spun back at Mycroft. “Not long now. But I want to give you something else to remember me by.” The thin shining blade of the stiletto arched downwards and straight at Mycroft’s chest. The momentum slowed by Moran until it settled two inches above his heart and very deep. He pulled back and Mycroft saw the deep red of the blood begin to spread across his waist coat. He was afraid he would bleed to death before anyone found him. But it was unlikely, as it was not part of Moran’s plan. That meant there must be someone feeding him information.  
A mole? But where? In Mycroft’s organization? In Scotland Yard? In his limited personal life? Who would do such a thing? Mycroft’s mind ran over all the possibilities as Moran left him for the last time. Mycroft dismissed the idea. Security was too good. Mycroft still felt the sting of the eyes watching him from the shadows. He heard a car start and leave in the distance. So, Moran was really gone. He decided to take a chance on the person in the shadows.  
“Hello there.” Mycroft called out, his mouth dry and his voice harsh. He tried to clear his throat. “I know that you can not only hear me, but I can feel your stare on the back of my neck. Now, I am hoping that we can work something out. But in order to do that, I would like to see you.” Mycroft heard a hesitant step and then the steps stopped.  
“Nice try Mr. Holmes.” Said a man. The voice was deep and gruff. But they were trying to disguise it using a false accent. Like someone who didn’t know the different accents of England trying to use them all at once.  
“Well, I was rather hoping that you would untie me. This is rather uncomfortable.” Mycroft sighed. Uncomfortable was only scratching the surface. He was bleeding heavily, his knee was not only broken but damaged. His ear was missing. His eye was swollen shut and he wasn’t sure if his skull was broken. But he was alive and this man was to ensure that he wouldn’t bleed out.  
A low chuckle came from behind him and he sighed as he listened for his rescue.  
****************************************   
Harry lay in her bed, her eyes staring at a point in the patterned plaster of the ceiling. She wondered if it was a place that Sherlock stared at over the years. She knew that she was using what was his bedroom before her brother and he started to share a room and a bed. She felt the fabric in her hands and brought up the waist coat to her nose to smell once again. Mycroft. They hadn’t been together for long, but she was in love with him. Part of her was scared that her love for him was a codependent type love. Something to replace the drinking. But Mycroft knew the risk as well as she did. He was level headed and logical. But love never was.   
She inhaled the intoxicating scent of the tweed and silk. Under that there was cigarette smoke from the few that Mycroft snuck when he was stressed, expensive cologne and the sweet scent that was him. Harry hated the idea that he was out there and was hurt. But she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. It was going to be the time to work after John and Sherlock found him. She was sure that they would. And she would be by his side. Helping him get better.  
Harry felt the familiar burning in her gut. The pull and the call of the booze. She had been sober for a long time, longer than she could ever remember being. At least longer than she had been in her marriage with Clara. But for the moment she was resisting. She knew that she needed a clear head. She knew that she had to be ready at a moment’s notice.  
But for what, she wasn’t sure. She closed her eyes and stared at the spot on ceiling again, through the closed eye lids. Her heart was far and away.


	4. Too Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is found.... but at what cost.

Chapter 4- Too Easy

Lestrade approached the van like he was approaching a bomb. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find inside. Initial forensics did find a small amount of blood and Mycroft’s jacket and umbrella. He had been in the van. The greying detective inspector sent pictures and video to Sherlock and John back at Baker Street. He walked back to his police car and leaned against the bonnet. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He wanted to find Mycroft, but finding the van with his belongings in it felt too easy. He sent his men around the surrounding building to see what they could find.   
The teams had been sweeping the buildings for ten minutes. It was the last building, where the radio crackled.  
“We found him, sir.” The voice came over the ear piece that Lestrade was wearing.  
“Condition?”  
“Alive. We need medical support.” Lestrade breathed out and called for an ambulance while texting Sherlock. The ambulance arrived and Lestrade watched as they lifted Mycroft into the back. Mycroft put his hand up and motioned for them to stop and for Greg to come near.  
“Moran.” He spat. “And there was another. Never saw him.” Now that he had moved, the pain was greater.  
“Tell me details later. Sherlock and John will meet you at the A&E.” Greg stated.   
“Harry.” Mycroft sighed. Greg knit his eyebrows. Mycroft’s heart began to flutter and sent the monitors into alarm mode. The medical personal pushed Greg aside to try and stabilize the elder man. Lestrade ran his hand through his messy cropped hair for the millionth time that evening.  
“Look for signs of someone else. Do not clear the scene until Sherlock has seen it.”  
“I’ll look now.” Sherlock said from behind Greg.  
“I thought you were going to the hospital.” Greg blew out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. But he was glad that Sherlock was going to be there and to do what he did best. While it was all still fresh.  
“John is there.” Greg nodded his head and led the way.

************************************************   
The nurse at the reception desk was stubborn. But John was more so. “I’m not only his doctor, I’m his bloody brother in law.” John yelled. He was mad and frustrated at the lack of ability to get to Mycroft. He turned to Anthea who was standing at his side. She had only recently arrived and pulled out a piece of paper from her large handbag.  
The nurse took it and read it with her one eyebrow arched. Skeptical, she was sure that it was a forgery. “This says that Dr. John H. Watson is his brother in law. And his doctor. Show me your id.” She said. John sucked in a breath and looked at Anthea. She nodded and John made a show of opening his wallet for his id, letting his St. Bart’s id and his military id fall on the putrid green counter before showing his driver’s license. She took each one in turn and looked at them, trying to see where they are faked. Anthea herself was getting angry. She pushed John gently to the side and stared at the nurse.  
Anthea pulled her id out of her purse. John was sure that it was one of many. The nurse’s eyes got wide as she looked at the emblem in the corner. “Listen, this man is who he says he is. I am Mr. Holmes’ personal assistant. He is the British government. If you do not have a personal escort and lackey here within the next minute, you will feel not only my wrath, but the wrath of the British Government, the Queen and this Army Captain.” She spewed, her fire scaring the woman. John turned to hide his smile and the nurse picked up the phone. She spoke quietly and quickly and Anthea let out a thin stream of air.  
“Ta.” John said under his breath. Anthea gave him a wink and they were on their way to see Mycroft.  
John had never thought of Mycroft as a small man. He was taller than Sherlock by almost two inches and Sherlock was tall. He was rounder than his brother, but there was a layer of finely tuned muscle under the aged skin. But when John and Anthea entered the room they both stopped in their tracks. Mycroft was hooked up to three IV’s and several monitors. His head was covered in a bandage and his wrists were swathed in gauze wrap. Mycroft looked swallowed up by the bed and the medical equipment. John scanned him with medical eyes. It was heart breaking to him. He was glad that he left Harry sleeping in her bed. He needed to assess the situation first. Then he would bring her to him.  
“Anthea, I need a private word with Dr. Watson.” Mycroft’s eyes were closed and Anthea left the room, her heels echoing down the hall. John came closer to the bed. Mycroft’s face was a mess of red welts, purple bruises and cuts. John huffed out a breath. “It looks worse than it feels, I suspect.”  
“It looks like it feels like hell.” John said.  
“It does.”  
“Mycroft, who did this?”  
“John, the question is not who, but why.” John nodded. “I loath repeating myself and I am drowsy from the pain medication. So, I will tell you and my brother in detail what happened tomorrow. But let Sherlock know that none of us are safe. Moran is coming for those I care about. Before you come tomorrow, before I see Harry, move everything and everyone to my house. It is safer than Baker Street.”  
“Consider it done.”  
“Nothing more can be done tonight. I am done.” John noted the heaviness to his voice. The sleepiness he had been fighting was overcoming his body. John put his hand on Mycroft’s. He leaned in.  
“Rest. We will take care of you for once.” Mycroft made a noise that he heard John and the good doctor left the room.  
*****************************************  
Anthea’s job was to take a comment and make the miraculous happen. She needed to anticipate every outcome and be prepared for it. While John was speaking to Mycroft, she was vetting every person coming in contact with Mycroft, making arrangements for guards on the doors, and setting up to allow John access to the medical treatment Mycroft needed. She was ruthlessly efficient and had everything in place from her mobile before John found her in the family room down the hall.  
“He’s resting.” John said. “He wants us back in the morning. Sherlock and I. While we come, would you please move everyone and the base of operations to his home, as per his request.” Anthea nodded.  
“Of course.” She said. Her voice was tired and John noted that she hadn’t slept either.  
“Now, I am going to meet Sherlock at the scene. Please go back to the flat and get some sleep.”  
“I’m fine.” She protested.  
“I don’t doubt it. But we have a few long days ahead of us. You need to rest when you can.” She conceded and John bundled her into one of Mycroft’s black cars and sent her back to the flat. He sent off a text to Sherlock.  
“Done at hospital. He’s stable and sleeping. Where are you?- JW”  
“NYS. Lestrade’s office. –SH”  
“Do you need anything? –JW”  
“You-SH” the text was a rapid reply. “Coffee too. Not this swill they call coffee here.- SH”  
“Sure. Be there soon. –JW” he put his phone in his pocket and thought about where the closest coffee shop was to the station. He climbed into the car Anthea had arranged for him and Sherlock to use for now and gave the driver his destination. He phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Another message from Sherlock.  
“Thank you. I love you.-SH”  
“I love you too. And thanks for what?-JW”  
“For taking care of him.-SH” John smiled.  
“That’s what family does.-JW”  
************************************  
Greg Lestrade was angry. Yes, the man hunt for Mycroft only lasted eight hours. He was safe. But it was all too easy. He kept repeating it over and over as he stormed around the open area outside his office. He was slamming drawers closed after he opened them to retrieve and item and slammed doors as he entered or exited a space. Sherlock was sitting in the chair at the desk, thinking. John came upon the scene, as two officers were trying to escape. They gave John a look that said –I wouldn’t go in there man- as he approached the room.   
“Greg.” John said. Lestrade stopped and looked at who called his name. John handed him a cup of coffee and Greg sipped it tentatively. He gulped it faster when he realized it was good coffee.  
“Thanks, I needed that.” Greg said. He was shaking and John knew the signs. Exhaustion, caffeine, the down after an adrenaline rush and frustration. He knew it first hand as well as watching Sherlock suffer from it.  
“No problem. Now, grab my boyfriend. I’m sure you could both use a fag and I could stand a bit of air.” John said. Greg nodded and he went to rouse Sherlock from his desk.  
Sherlock was standing in the doorway, putting on his coat. John smiled at him and Sherlock rushed over. He put his arms around John, as John thrust the paper tray of cups at Lestrade. He took Sherlock into his arms and held him for a moment.   
“Can’t even go to work without the homos having sex in the office.” Anderson spat as he came around the corner and saw them. Lestrade turned a brilliant shade of red. He calmly placed the cups on the table. John and Sherlock stood a bit apart and watched the scene unfold around them. It was eerily still.   
“Get you coat. Get the hell out. You are suspended until further notice. Without pay. You are damn lucky that I don’t allow one of the two of them punch you in your fucking face. Leave now.” Anderson stood with his mouth on the floor. Donovan who had witnessed the entire thing and felt both an internal horror at Anderson’s words and fear for him, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him down the hall. Sherlock reached for his coffee and strode out of NYS.  
*******************************  
John gently placed his keys on the side table, next to his chair. Sherlock had gone upstairs to check on his parents and Anthea was gently snoring on the sofa. John pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and went to the kitchen. Sherlock joined him silently.  
“Do you want me to go with you?” Sherlock asked.  
“No, but thank you. I need to do this.” John said. “Get some sleep. Or at least rest.”  
“I’m fine…” Sherlock began to protest, but John shot him a look that dared him to continue. Sherlock shut his mouth and put his arms around John. John leaned into him and Sherlock bent to kiss him. It was a small kiss, but it was first time they had been alone, so to speak in a while and they didn’t even know when they would have time to spend any time together, touching and holding each other for a while. John broke away and led Sherlock to his chair. He forced Sherlock to sit. Sherlock held John’s hand and John smiled.   
“I’ll be back soon.” John promised. With a kiss, he left and went to Harry’s room.  
John knocked on the door quietly and opened it. She had fallen asleep with the small lamp on the bedside on. John sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed her back to wake her.  
“Harry, sweetie, we need to talk.” He said. Harry moved and made a noise that could have been something akin to “fuck off” but then she sat bolt upright.  
“What’s happened?” she asked.  
“We found him.” Her breath hitched and she started again. Her eyes glistened with tears.  
“How, bad… is he…?” there were more questions than her mouth could formulate. John gave her a weak smile. He took a deep breath.  
“He had his ear cut off, his face was beaten pretty bad, his eye is swollen shut. There is more of his skin that is bruises than not. He has a pretty serious concussion. He was stabbed and it had to be stitched shut. But his knee is the worst. It was slammed with what we believe was a hammer, a big one. But, he’s alive. He was alert and oriented. I left him sleeping.” Harry felt the tears roll down her face.  
“I want to see him.” John gathered his older sister into his arms.  
“And I will take you. But we have to talk about some things. Firstly, Anthea will be taking you and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes to Mycroft’s in the morning. We will all be staying there. It’s a fucking fortress. Sherlock and I will be going to talk to Mycroft while that takes place.” Harry nodded. “Secondly, we will take his parents to him. I think we will keep the visit short. I am taking over as his supervising doctor and they will listen to me. Thirdly, and this is the part that I don’t really want to tell you.”  
“Johnny.” Harry said.  
“Har, when you came to see me the night shortly after I told you we were done, Mycroft interceded. There was someone threatening the people we love. And I never wanted to have you involved with the crazy life we lead. Someone is always shooting at us, threatening us, trying to hurt us. And I don’t want you involved in it. Sometimes, I don’t want to be me. But, you are. You are in the thick of it. After I saw Mycroft, I met up with Sherlock and Lestrade. He knows about you two now. We had to tell him. “ John paused and Harry nodded. John continued.  
“But, as we spoke, we decided that the safest option is going to be to continue to keep your relationship a secret. You met him a few times. You are nothing more to him than my sister. If Moran finds out about you, he will at the very least kill you. And I couldn’t….. Mycroft couldn’t….” John found that words were failing him. His eyes filled with tears. There was nothing easy about telling his sister this. When finding Mycroft had proved to be easy, this wasn’t. And John thought it wasn’t fair. He was angry and scared for his sister.  
“I understand.” She said. “But someone needs to explain that to Martha and Ben. She is practically planning our wedding.” John smiled and chuckled a bit.  
“I will. I need to talk to them next.” Harry hugged her brother. “It’s going to be really fucking hard. But with some luck, we will get through this.”  
“We don’t need luck.” She said. John pulled back to look at her face. She had a wicked smile. “We have Holmes and Watson.” John pulled her into another hug and lay her down.  
“Get some sleep. He won’t be happy if you look like hell.” Harry smiled and pulled Mycroft’s pillow into her arms. John closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall. Sherlock was at his side and pulled him into an embrace.  
“One down, two to go.” John said.  
“I can talk to my parents.” Sherlock offered.  
“No. I will.” John said. It had been decided that John was better at delivering the news. Sherlock’s bed side manner was terrible to say the least. “That was too easy. This is going to be hard.”


	5. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to see Mycroft at hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, but between work being really crazy this week, and the most wonderful thing.... i have a beta!  
> So, here is a new chapter, betaed by mamf. Thank you again for doing this. You are the bomb! xx
> 
> Time for the legal stuff... the small print... I wish I owned these characters but they belong to ACD and BBC. 
> 
> So the game is .... something ;)

Chapter 5- Settling

When John’s wife had put a bullet in Sherlock nearly a year previously, Martha had not handled the news of her son’s injury well. She was very emotional and raged for months after. She still harbored a deep resentment that the party had never been caught. She would have been outraged if she had known it was Mary. John did not relish his task in telling Mrs. Holmes the extent of Mycroft’s injuries, but everyone felt that she needed to know what she was going to be seeing in the morning. But John feared that no matter how much he prepared her the shock at seeing him was going to be worse. He climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Sherlock and rapped on the door. John saw the light come on under the door and listened as they put on their robes. Ben opened the door.  
Martha was sitting on the bed, and Ben pulled the door open for John to come in. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor to the left of the door. Ben sat with Martha on the bed.  
John reviewed the injuries, Mycroft’s medical condition and the plan for the next step with them. They cried silent tears as the listened, nodding and asking small questions.   
“There is one thing, we need to discuss.” John said. His own exhaustion was overcoming him. Sherlock came up the stairs and was standing in the hall outside the room.  
“What is that?” Martha asked. She was quiet and seemed empty.  
“Harry.” Martha and Ben listened as John explained the threat in vague terms and that they needed to be careful with the relationship.  
“But, if you are concerned for her and us, what about you and Sherlock?” Ben asked. “Sherlock, aren’t you scared?” Martha’s eyes shot up to the door. Sherlock came into the room and sat on the bed with his parents.  
“I am.” He admitted. “But, I promise we will be safe.”  
Martha’s hands flitted over Sherlock, landing on his face, his hands, his arms. She needed to touch her boy and John wished he could do the same. The sun was beginning to come up over the eastern sky. The light in the room was changing and John tried to stifle a yawn. Martha watched him and she gasped.  
“Oh! Oh, John, Sherlock, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. Sherlock tiredly raised an eyebrow. “We took your bed. And Harry is in the other. And Anthea is on the sofa. You two haven’t slept a wink.”  
“Transport.” Sherlock muttered, but John could tell he was dead on his feet.  
“We’ve slept a lot less than this on other cases.” John said, a yawn pushing out from his mouth. Martha got up and grabbed their bags. She took her husband’s hand.  
“It’s silly. I hear Anthea up. We will go downstairs. You two sleep - just a couple of hours. I’ll make breakfast and wake you soon.” John started to shake his head and Martha shot him a look that earned her a smile from him. Sherlock had flopped back on the bed. John wanted nothing more than to curl up with him and sleep.  
“Two hours.” Sherlock said. John nodded and got up from the floor. Sherlock took off his jacket and Martha led her husband down stairs. John closed the door and stripped of his clothes. He climbed in the bed and Sherlock mimicked him. The lay with John’s front to Sherlock’s back like two spoons.  
“Love you.” John mumbled into Sherlock’s neck as he kissed him.  
“Me too.” Sherlock said, his voice hazy with sleep. He pulled John’s arms around him tighter and fell into an instant and dreamless sleep.  
***********************************************  
Harry stood on the landing, trying to decide if just knocking and leaving was sufficient. In the time she had been staying with John and Sherlock, she had seen quite a bit of their relationship. But she had not seen them in bed together and wasn’t sure she ever wanted to. She opted to just knock and call out.  
“John, Sherlock.” She said. She heard a noise from the other side. Sherlock opened the door, his head sticking out the door. His face was puffy from sleep and his unruly curls were sticking up in a manic way.  
“Breakfast in ten.” She said. Sherlock nodded and closed the door. She heard the murmur of his voice as he woke John. She climbed back down stairs and helped Mrs. Holmes finish breakfast.  
John sat on the edge of the bed and wished for not the first time that there was a bathroom on the second floor. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Hudson about installing one after everything was resolved.  
Sherlock pulled on his robe and ran downstairs. He went into the shower and John heard the taps turn on. A shower sounded delightful and he pulled his robe out and decided that he would get in as soon as Sherlock was done. He went downstairs to grab a cup of coffee while he waited.  
A little known fact about Martha Holmes was that when she was upset, she cooked. John stared at the kitchen table. True, there were six people in the flat that morning, but there was more food than John had seen since the service. She had cooked enough to feed an army. He nipped some bacon and chewed as he poured coffee.  
“Feeling better?” Harry asked. John was still too groggy to respond with words, so he nodded. Everyone was dressed and Anthea was organizing cars to take them to Mycroft’s home. Sherlock came out of the shower, toweling his hair and he entered the kitchen. He kissed his mother on the cheek and put his hand on his father’s shoulder. John handed him a cup of coffee and Sherlock smiled. John took his cup into the bathroom and started the shower.  
*************************************************  
“I wish we had more time.” Sherlock stated, as he watched John pull on clean clothes, his body still pink and damp from the shower. John smirked and shook his head.  
“Later.” He said.  
“I know.” Sherlock stood and came over to where John was pulling on a jumper. Sherlock put his arms around John’s waist and pulled him in close. John rested his head on Sherlock’s collar bone and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.  
“Not the way I wanted to spend time with the family.” John said into Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock leaned down and kissed John. He wasn’t sure when they would have a chance to be alone together again for a while. John kissed him back, sweet and gentle. John broke away. “We need to go.” Sherlock nodded and they set off downstairs, holding hands.

**************************************************  
Mycroft looked worse this morning than he had earlier. The swelling on his face was reducing, but the color was becoming a rainbow riot of purples, yellows and greens on top of the reds and pinks. He was sitting up in the bed, looking over various papers and files on the table in front of him. Sherlock strode into the room and John followed in his wake. They had ensured that the family was speeding off to Mycroft’s home before coming to see him. John had been in touch with the medical team during breakfast. It seemed the procedure to reattach Mycroft’s ear had been successful, but he would need a special surgery and they were scheduling it for later in the day.   
“Thank you both for coming. I see that you have slept some.” Mycroft said, closing the file in front of him.  
“Mother and Father will be here in short order. I do not think that either of us can keep them away.” Sherlock said. John sat down on the chair in the room and Sherlock leaned on the arm of the chair. John’s hand automatically stroked Sherlock’s back and Mycroft had to turn a bit to see them both.  
“Then we have work to do.” He took a deep breath and John noted the pain in his face.  
“When did you last take medication for the pain?” he asked, noting that the morphine pump was turned down.  
“It clouds my brain.” Mycroft retorted. John shook his head and turned up the medication a bit. He watched as Mycroft’s eyes fluttered a bit and readjusted it.  
“Bollocks. Pain is not good. The mind is nothing if the body isn’t working.” John scolded. “Tomorrow I will change the medication to something less sedating. But for now, you are going to talk, tell us everything that happened, sleep a bit, let your mother fuss over you and then, later after you come out of recovery and your mother is satisfied that you are okay, I will return with Harry. But one single complaint or one single gruff and I will ensure that the medication is so high, you will not wake.” John was using his Captain Doctor voice and Sherlock was more than a bit aroused. He hid it with a smirk.  
“Is he always this demanding?” Mycroft asked his brother. Sherlock chuckled and Mycroft sighed. “Fine.”  
“So, tell us.” Sherlock prompted, John settling once again into the chair.  
Mycroft recounted his tale, speaking in low tones, as if he were a third party watching the event. He repeated Moran’s threats and John took deep calming breaths at each turn. He mentally checked the feel of the gun at his waist. He knew Sherlock was unconventionally armed as well. Mycroft finished and closed his eyes. A small single tear escaped his left eye.  
“This could be a long game.” Sherlock stated. Mycroft nodded.  
“But we have an advantage.” Mycroft said. John tilted his head in question.  
“What would that be?”  
“Moran is angry and blinded with rage. He has been planning this for years. But I know how he works and I will be prepared for it.”  
“But he’s been patient. He still is. It could be weeks before something happens.” John stated. Mycroft gave him a knowing smile.  
“But I have a plan in the works.”

**********************************************  
Harry had been to Mycroft’s home. He had recently taken her to a therapist appointment and brought her back to his house for dinner afterwards. They had eaten cold chicken and fruit in bed, after making love for hours. She had been visiting once a week for the last few weeks. Anthea was assigning bedrooms, and had a man taking the bags to the rooms. Martha and Ben dumped their things and were itching to get to the hospital to see their son. Harry was staying at the house.   
Mycroft had bought a large home. Brick, two story and overly done. Old England was what Harry thought of it, but it was fitting for Mycroft. From the outside, one would expect it to be cold and drafty, but it was warm, cozy, and filled with Mycroft. Harry watched everyone leave and wandered around the house for a while. She was not alone, as the small staff that tended the house was there, but Anthea had gone with the Holmes’. Harry opened the door to Mycroft’s study. This was a room that she had only glanced at previously, but she found she was drawn there. This was the room that he lived in.   
The cherry desk was littered with paper and files. A laptop sat to the side and when Harry nudged it with her hip as she walked past, the screen came to life. The background was a picture of her, John and Sherlock. She was laughing at something Sherlock had said over dinner recently and John was smiling. She didn’t even know that Mycroft had taken the photo. She ran her fingers over the image and felt the tears threatening to spill over her eyes. She noted the cut crystal bottles on the sideboard and the dark amber liquids mocking her.  
Harry ran out of the room and found the first staff person she could find.   
“Please, please, take all the alcohol in the house and lock it up somewhere. Every decanter. Every bottle of wine. Put it somewhere I cannot find it.” The frantic look in her eyes must have been enough, because he ran to find help and begin his task. Harry flew up the stairs and into the master bedroom that Mycroft used. She flopped on the bed and held her mobile in her hand. She sent a text and turned to bury her face in his pillow.

*****************************************  
John was just stepping out of the way of the Martha Holmes freight train. She had her sights on Mycroft and there was no stopping her from reaching his bedside, when his text alert went off.  
“John. Need you. Now.- HW” He looked at it and Sherlock looked over his shoulder. John’s grip on his mobile became white.  
“Are you hurt?-JW” John asked.  
“No physically. Having an issue with” she didn’t sign it. John looked at Sherlock.  
“I need to go. It’s Harry.” John said. Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder and Mycroft’s attention snapped to John at the mention of her name. “She’s fine, physically. She’s alone and her will power is most likely faltering.” John explained. There was a pained look on Mycroft’s face. “I’ll bring her round later.” John said. Mycroft nodded and his gaze shifted between Sherlock and his mother. Sherlock nodded.  
“Mother, why don’t we walk John out and get a cup of tea. I think Mycroft is due for some medication before his surgery this afternoon. Let’s give him a moment.” It was the most tender thing John had ever witnessed Sherlock do. He guided his mother by her shoulders and led her from the room. Mycroft picked up his mobile when he was alone and dialed the number.  
“’ello?” Harry answered through a sniffle. Mycroft’s heart broke.  
“Harriet.” He said. Her sobs started anew. His voice. He hadn’t thought to call her earlier. But now he knew it was wrong. He should have dialed much earlier.  
“Oh, Myc. I was so worried.”  
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”  
“How are you… doing?” she asked, trying to control her sobs.  
“I’m settling in. Oh, Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.” He said.   
“I’m fine. I just don’t like being alone.” She said.  
“Where are you?” he asked. Mycroft could hear the change in her voice. He knew that she was calming.  
“On your bed, actually.” Mycroft had to catch himself. The thought of her on his bed did something to him that affected his mind. “I was looking for you here. And I found what I was looking for in the study.”  
“And you saw the decanters.” Mycroft let out a slow breath. “John is on his way.”  
“I might owe one of your staff an apology. I snapped. I had them lock up all the booze.” She said. Mycroft chuckled.  
“Sweetheart, they have been screamed at and snapped at. They are used to it. That’s why I pay them so well. However, my love, I need to go. My mother isn’t done fussing and I’m afraid Sherlock is going to have an aneurysm before long.” Harry sighed.  
“They know.” She said.  
“I presumed as much. But it still doesn’t mean that I intend to let more people hear our private conversations. I will see you later. John promised he would bring you by.” Mycroft grimaced in pain as he tried to shift. “I will see you soon. And you have no idea what it does to me to think of you in my bed. Please tell me you plan on sleeping there tonight.”  
“I do. I plan on sleeping here until you ask me otherwise.” She said. There was mischief in her voice.  
“Damn, woman.” He whispered. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”  
“I love you too.” She said and he rang off. Mycroft put his phone down and closed his eyes. Harriet was going to be a complication, and he realized that it was a welcome one.

********************************************  
John arrived at the house and went in search of his sister. He was getting strange looks out of the staff as he passed, but he found her in the master bedroom. She was lying on the large four poster bed, on her side and curled into herself like a small child. John came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.  
“This is exactly the kind of bed I expected Mycroft to have.” John said. “Not that I have imagined it.” He was tired and punchy. Harry rolled on to her back.  
“Is he really alright?” she asked. John lay back on the bed himself.  
“Yes. He’s Mycroft.” He answered.  
“I’m sorry you had to come.” Harry said in a small voice.  
“It’s alright.” John said. “I really didn’t want to stay around the hospital and watch Martha tut us each to death.” Harry laughed.  
“I can imagine. I should cook something for dinner. It will help me.” Harry said.  
“If you want. But I would suggest a shower, a change of clothes and then we can go out for a bite to eat. After that, I can take you to see Mycroft.” John challenged. Harry sat up.  
“Oh, shit.” She scrambled from the bed and looked for her bag. It was sitting on the upholstered bench near the on suite bathroom. “That is a fabulous idea.” She took her bag and disappeared to take a shower. John closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.  
*******************************************  
John took Harry to get something to eat after she woke him up. Sherlock was better at not sleeping than he was and the emotional toll of the night before had made it worse. Sherlock texted John when Mycroft went into surgery and joined them at the bistro. John’s face lit up when Sherlock swept into the restaurant. Sherlock sat down, smiled at Harry, kissed John and took his chips.  
“Oi!” John said. “If you want chips, I’ll order you some. But these are mine, you wanker.” Sherlock smiled and bit down on a chip.  
“I want yours.” John shook his head.   
“You need to eat something better than chips.” John tutted. Sherlock sighed.  
“My mother has been trying to stuff me with all kinds of things.” Sherlock said. “I’m only eating these because they are yours.” John took back his chips, kissed Sherlock and watched his sister pull a face.  
“Time and place.” She said as she sipped her soda water. John smiled against Sherlock’s lips.   
“Yes, of course.” Sherlock said, with a grin. Sherlock’s mobile sent a text alert and he pulled it from his pocket.  
“He’s in recovery.” Sherlock stated. “I should go back, let him see my parents and send them on their way with Anthea. I’ll text when things are clear.” Sherlock said. John nodded his head and with a kiss, Sherlock was gone.  
*****************************************  
Two hours later, just as the sun was beginning to set, John and Harry walked hand in hand through the hospital. She was pretending she was bored and along for the ride, but inside she was nervous and excited. It would be the first time she had seen him. John led her into his room and found the lights low. She stopped inside the door and let out a small gasp. John ran his hand over her spine and Sherlock looked up from the chair he was occupying, his attention moved from his phone to Harry, to Mycroft to his John. He smiled and put his phone away. He reached out to put his hand on Mycroft’s. His hand was snaked with tubes and he opened his eyes to the touch. His face changed when he saw Harry.  
“We’ll leave you be.” John said as Harry flew across the room. Sherlock and John went to the nursing station to read the report on the surgery and to consult with the nurses.  
“I want to start him on oral pain medications in the morning.” John instructed. He made notes in the chart and left the orders for the nurse to enter. He and Sherlock went to find a pair of seats to wait in.  
*******************************************  
Harry flew to Mycroft but stopped at the side of the bed. He reached out his hand for her, but she didn’t see it through her tears.  
“I’m fine.” He stated to her. His voice was soft and hazy, from the drugs they had given him to fix his ear. She took his hand and he pulled her against him. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently kissed his lips.  
“I was so worried.” She said. “I… I… Oh, Myc.” She buried her head in his chest and he winced as she hit the bandage. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She noticed the flinch.  
“I’m fine.” He repeated. “Just tired, and happy now that you are here.” He wrapped his arm around her and lay her down next to him.  
“How long until you can come home?” she asked into his shoulder.  
“I suspect the day after tomorrow. Your brother wants more tests on my knee. They want to operate on it. Nothing torn. It’s just shattered.” Mycroft pulled back the covers to show her the splint that extended from his groin to his ankle. “I can’t walk, and it will be bothersome for some time.”  
“I just want you with me.” She said. “I know that sounds selfish, but it’s all I want.”  
“And it’s what I want too.” He said kissing her head. “We will be together soon enough. Now, tell me about your day.”  
Harry obliged. She told him about all the little things she had done and how she was moving into his bedroom.  
“That will sustain me until I can join you.” He said. Harry shifted and kissed him deeply. His eyes saw the door open and shut. John cleared his throat and Sherlock just turned away.  
“Turn about is fair play.” Harry giggled as Sherlock turned back and did something so out of character and childish, they all broke out in a laugh. He stuck his tongue out at her.  
“Harry, I’m sorry, but we need to go. Mycroft needs rest.” John said as he approached the bed. He looked at the level of morphine and turned it up a bit. Mycroft pursed his lips and John stared him down.  
“Get settled. Come back tomorrow.” Mycroft said. Harry nodded and kissed him goodbye.


	6. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone begins to recover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me this long....  
> Thank you mamf for betaing! You are great!
> 
> Wondering what you all think of this so far.... comments are always welcome

Chapter 6- Recovery

When Harry spent a week sober, they gave her a chip. After a month, another. After three, yet again another. She lay on Mycroft’s bed, her chips in a neat pile in front of her. She was alone and wearing one of his button down shirts as a night dress. The hem hit her mid-thigh. She smiled and decided to be wicked. She took her phone over to the full length mirror in the bathroom and took a picture. She sent it to Mycroft.  
“Thinking of you. X- HW” Mycroft’s phone buzzed on the table next to him. He blindly grabbed for it, out of habit. He was awake, but just barely. Anthea had just left, after he had given her instructions for the office for the next few days. His eyes grew wide at the message and then he opened the photo.  
Mycroft could keep his composure in front of mercenaries, dignitaries and foreign secretaries. But seeing his bathroom, his shirt and Harry all at once was too much for him. He let out a low growl. He wasn’t sure he could keep himself in check if he heard her voice, so texting it was.  
“Damn woman. I am supposed to be recovering. – MH” The response was immediate.  
“I know. But I’m in your bed and I was thinking of you.- HW”  
“Now, I am thinking of you in my bed.- MH”  
“Myc. The things I could do to you with this bloody phone. But I would rather show you in person.- HW”  
“That is something I will look forward to.- MH”  
“Sleep, my love. I will see you in the morning. X-HW”  
“Sleep yourself. Just don’t fall in love with my pillows. X- MH”  
“My heart belongs somewhere else.-HW”  
“As does mine. –MH” Mycroft put down his phone and fell asleep with Harry on his mind.

****************************************  
Sherlock and John had the option to stay at Mycroft’s as well as everyone else. But they had a long, word-less discussion and wanted to go home to their own flat and their own bed. Neither of them had said a word to each other when they took Harry back to the house and Mrs. Holmes asked if they were staying the night. John shook his head.  
“Mycroft’s house is lovely and I know there are plenty of beds. But I really want to sleep in my own tonight. And get a proper night’s sleep.” John said. Sherlock was nearly dead on his feet again.   
“Besides, Mother, John and I need to work tomorrow. It will be easier to think in my own space.” Sherlock was trying to tell everyone that he needed to relax in his own world; a place where he was most comfortable.   
It took some convincing and a few guilt trips dodged, before they were in the back of the car, heading back to Baker Street.   
John climbed the stairs and shucked his shoes inside the sitting room. He wanted nothing more than a shower and his bed, but the look in Sherlock’s eyes had something different in mind. John smiled a bit as Sherlock grabbed his hand and pulled him to the sofa.  
“Now.” Sherlock growled. John understood. Sherlock needed this to calm the raging torrent in his mind. He needed to fuck John and then sleep. John had seen this twice before and he knew that it was better than Sherlock trying to buy cocaine and hide it from John.   
John nodded his head and licked his lips. He would let Sherlock dictate how much he needed and then take him apart, piece by piece until Sherlock was totally numb with bliss.  
“Two minutes.” John said. Sherlock understood and went up to the bedroom. John locked up the flat and turned on the alarm they rarely used. He used the loo and climbed the stairs to Sherlock.   
Sherlock was laying on the bed, his jacket, shirt, shoes and socks gone. John took off his jumper and put it on the floor. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out his hand gun. He placed it on the table carefully, noting that the safety was on. He stopped and raised his eyebrows at Sherlock.  
“Between the mattress and the box spring.” Sherlock snapped. John pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. Sherlock was so tense he was going to snap. Sherlock closed his eyes and took three deep breaths while John finished taking off his shirt, socks and jeans. When Sherlock opened his eyes again, John was standing over him. “What?” Sherlock asked.  
“Nothing. I was just thinking how beautiful you are.” John said tenderly. “And how much I want you inside me.” Sherlock’s eyes dilated and he grabbed John’s waist, flinging him across the bed and onto his back. John laughed and Sherlock pulled off his trousers.  
John noted that Sherlock was hard and his silk boxers were straining to keep him in. John moved his hand over his own cock and Sherlock moaned at the sight.  
Sherlock’s fingers ran down John’s chest and he leaned in for a kiss. It was light and John groaned at the touch. His hand went to Sherlock’s neck and pulled him in for more. His tongue licked at the top of his lip and traced a line towards Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock moved his hand to John’s cock and rubbed it with his palm though the cotton of his pants.   
John shifted. There was not going to be a long drawn out foreplay this evening. They were too raw with want and need. John looped his fingers in Sherlock’s waist band and pulled his boxers down. Sherlock let go of John long enough to rid himself of clothes and for John to do the same. He climbed back on top of John, his slender digits working their cocks together. John groped for the lube and dribbled some on his fingers as well as their cocks. John shifted to reach his arse and to begin to ready himself. Sherlock kissed John as he stroked them in his long skilled fingers.  
“I’m ready.” John said in a kiss. “For the love of god, fuck me.” Sherlock smiled and let out a groan. He let go of John and lifted his knees up. John raised his hips and Sherlock slammed into him in one go. He hit John’s prostate immediately and John saw stars. Sherlock pulled out and slammed in again, his pace steady but increasing quickly. John took his slicked finger and began to work his own cock. Sherlock pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and John took his free hand to pull him closer. John grabbed his lip with his teeth and sucked on it as Sherlock continued his assault on John. John matched his strokes with Sherlock and as Sherlock stuttered and came, John felt the heat inside and fell over the edge himself, hot wet seed spilling on both their bellies.   
Sherlock pushed off of John and John wiped himself clean with the flannel he had brought up from the bathroom. Sherlock lay on his back and John wiped him clean as well. Sherlock’s breathing was labored and John was worried. He pulled up the duvet and settled himself on his side towards Sherlock.  
“You okay, love?” John asked as he traced his hairline with his fingertips.  
“Did I…. Did… “ Sherlock took a breath. “Are you okay?” John chuckled.  
“I am fine.”  
“I didn’t hurt you?” Sherlock asked.  
“Sherlock, are you worried that you hurt me because of how rough that was?” Sherlock gave a subtle nod. “Love, that was nothing. Sometimes hard and fast is needed. Now, roll over so I can hold you and go to sleep.” Sherlock turned first to kiss John.  
“I love you.” Sherlock said. John smiled.  
“I love you too. Now, roll. Sleepy.” Sherlock complied and they fell asleep as quickly as they climaxed.

***************************************  
John strode into the hospital and checked his patient’s chart before going to see him. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for his disposition and his ability to focus. He came closer to Mycroft’s room and heard a familiar voice yelling.  
“I don’t bloody care who you think you are. I am Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. Now move or I will have you arrested for impeding an investigation.” John came up to the guard and smiled. The guard looked at John and shook his head.  
“No one in.” he said. “This room is out of bounds.” John chuckled.  
“And tell me this. You are new here aren’t you.” The guard nodded. “And there is a short list of persons who are allowed in.” The guard again nodded. “And is one of the names on your little list, Dr. John Watson?” It was almost painful to watch the oversized mountain of a man think. He finally nodded. John pulled out his photo hospital id. “So, please step aside so that I may tend to my patient. And this gentleman has permission to come in as well. Ask to whom you are speaking next time and get id. There are always other assignments.” John raised his eyebrows and the man stepped aside. John sniggered and followed Greg into the room.  
“And what was all that about?” Mycroft asked, as John and Lestrade approached the bed.  
“Some giant pile of flesh wouldn’t let anyone pass. It was like speaking to the Golem.” John said with a chuckle.   
“I’ll speak to him.” Mycroft said. John shook his head.  
“He’s new isn’t he? Give him a break. This is not what he was cut out for. Now, how is the pain on the medication?” John asked changing the subject.  
Mycroft and John went over the medical aspects of his care. Lestrade stayed at the edges of the room, rocking on his heels and his hands in his pockets. When John was satisfied with the interview, Lestrade stopped moving.  
“Obviously there is a reason you are here today.” Mycroft said. “So, out with it.”  
“Well, I was just checking in. I wanted to see how you are doing.” Lestrade said.  
“I am fine.” Mycroft stated with a grimace. Lestrade nodded.   
“We have nothing.” Lestrade admitted.  
“Trust me when I tell you that it’s not at all surprising. Moran is nothing but a professional. There has not been a picture or finger print left behind him in years.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “But, I too have been looking into the situation. I hope to have more promising news on the situation in a few days. We will speak more then, but off-the-record and without the Yard’s involvement.” Lestrade appraised the older man in the bed. He was returning to the pompous arse that Lestrade knew he could be. Lestrade felt as if he was being dismissed.   
“Fine. Stay in touch. We will speak again soon.” He nodded at John and left the room. John caught him in the hallway.  
“Greg!” Lestrade stopped and turned. “Listen, you know Mycroft. He’s a more professional version of Sherlock. But trust me. The Yard would hand over the crown jewels for his resources. When he comes up with information it’s perfect. You don’t really want to know where the information came from, but…”  
“I know.” Lestrade rand his hand over his cropped head. He let out a breath. “I hate it. But a means to an end.”  
“Greg, if we work together with Mycroft and catch Moran, you will not only be a hero at the Yard, I wouldn’t be surprised if you get an offer from MI-5 or Interpol. This case could make you.” John said. Greg nodded.  
“I’ll talk to you soon.” He turned to go. “How’s Harry?”  
“She’s holding up. I’m a little more worried about Sherlock. He hasn’t spent this much time with his brother or parents in years. It’s kind of like watching a fish out of water. It’s cute too.”  
“Sherlock. Cute. This I have to see.”  
“Then come for dinner tonight. Harry is cooking. Family dinner and all that. At least you would help Sherlock.”  
“How can I help him?” Greg smiled.   
“He would affectionately lambast you at every chance. Plus, seeing him with his parents is worth every barb.” John chuckled. “It would be good for Harry too. Another normal person in the house.”  
“I’ll text you later.” Lestrade said. He laughed a bit to himself and climbed on to the lift.  
**************************************************  
Sherlock sat in the front parlor, looking out the window. John had left for the hospital and Harry was in conference with the chef, working on the dinner she was planning. It was giving her something to focus on. Sherlock had spent long days and nights at Mycroft’s house, but it wasn’t home. He never felt truly comfortable. And his mother was sitting in a chair near him tutting away at him about his hair, his slender body, his eating habits and anything else she could think of. John had asked him to allow her to do this.   
“It’s good for her. She needs an outlet.” John explained that morning. “She needs to keep occupied. When I come back from the hospital, I will help entertain her. Then you can go work.” John was still deliciously naked in the bed that morning and Sherlock would have given him anything at that moment. But now, he was regretting his decision to go along with it.  
“Mother, please.” Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a very Mycroft way.  
“What? Shouldn’t I be concerned about my son?” she huffed, slightly offended by him.  
“Concerned? Concerned? I died. I am slender. But I am fine. I am living with a doctor. And I am content with my life, such as it is.” He breathed. Martha scoffed.  
“William Sherlock Scott Holmes. It is my right as a mother to worry about her children. Mycroft nearly died. You nearly died. I am not having an easy time dealing with the fact that both my bright boys have chosen lines of work where brushing death is an everyday occurrence.”  
“Mother.” Sherlock growled. John stood in the doorway and smiled at Martha.  
“Sherlock.” John said, his voice loud enough for him to hear and the tone stern. It was a warning.  
“John, thank god. I need to work.” He said. Sherlock got up from the chair he was sitting in, planting a swift kiss on John’s lips, he left.  
John shook his head and came into the room with Martha. She was smiling and started to laugh.  
“That was good fun.” She said. “I love to watch him get wound up.” John laughed with her.  
“It was. I’m glad you were able to dig into him a bit. He deserves it once in a while and it’s nice to allow someone else to do so.” Martha leaned over and patted his hand. John fell into an easy silence and allowed his thoughts to consume him.  
Martha sighed and watched John. “How are you, my boy?” she asked, softly and in a motherly tone.  
“I’m… well, to be honest, I have good days and bad. It’s been a roller coaster.” He settled back into the chair a bit. “I’m recovering.”  
“Recovering.” Martha tried the word out. “It seems to be something we do well.”  
“I agree.” John said. 

****************************************  
Greg came through the door to Mycroft’s large house twenty minutes late. John was helping Harry with putting food on the table and Martha and Ben were in the sitting room, talking in low voices. Sherlock was pouting. He had been in touch with his homeless network all afternoon and had turned up nothing. But Greg came skidding into the kitchen.  
“We have something.” He said. John and Sherlock both shot him a look. It was a Pavlovian response: a case, a lead, something.  
“What is it?” Sherlock asked. He was hungry for something to do and dangerously approaching boredom.  
“We found a sim card. It’s damaged, but I gave it to Anthea to see if she can get anything off of it.”  
“Where?” Sherlock asked. He was close to biting Lestrade’s head off for more information.  
“Three blocks from the scene. In the gutter of a nearby street. It looks like it was pitched out a window from a moving vehicle.” John nodded his head.  
“That makes sense. Toss anything that would possibly put Moran at the scene.”  
“But Mycroft keeps alluding to something else.” Sherlock said. “I think there was someone else there. I think that Mycroft is in the process of turning someone against Moran and take him into the folds of MI-6.”  
“That’s certainly possible.” Lestrade said. He sat down and scrubbed his face with his hands. “There is nothing to do until we hear from Anthea.”   
“Let’s hope she recovers something.”

******************************************  
John allowed Mycroft to be released the next day. They kept it secret. Sherlock came with as they escorted Mycroft back to his house the next morning. Harry was trolling the internet, trying to replace one addiction with a shoe fetish. Martha and Ben were sitting in the warm sun of the sitting room, reading. They had made a habit about going to visit Mycroft in the afternoon, after testing and other procedures where completed.  
John held open the door and Sherlock stood behind Mycroft as he attempted to cross the threshold on crutches. His knee was going to take a long time to heal and there were questions of whether he would ever walk well again. His ear was taking well and his face was less swollen. The crutches had put undue stress on his wrists and he could feel the blood seeping through the bandages.  
“Harry?” John called from the front hall. She put down her laptop and went to the doorway.  
“Oi!” she said as she came up on him. “I was shopping.”  
“Well, I brought you a present.” John said. Harry came around the corner and stopped. Mycroft’s face broke out into a smile and she walked quickly to his side. She grabbed him around the neck and he struggled to maintain his balance.  
“Myc.” She said and leaned into kiss him.   
“Harry.”  
“Now, there will be plenty of time for that. We need to get you up to bed. Change the bandages and settle you in to recover.” Mycroft nodded and steeled himself for the stairs.  
“Why the bloody hell did I buy a two story house?”


	7. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft comes home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG!!!! I can't believe it! I missed posting a chapter. Not that it was an important chapter, but it was filled with smut! I am so sorry.  
> But I hope this works out.....  
> Thanks for reading and thanks to my wonderful beta! MAFM you rock girl!

Chapter 7- Breathe

John sat back and admired his handiwork. He was good at being a doctor. Mycroft was settled into his bed and Harry was fussing around him, fluffing pillows and rearranging things. Mycroft grabbed her hands and stilled her. She sighed as he sat her on the end of the bed.  
“Stop.” Mycroft said. Martha entered the room with a tray of tea and cake. Mycroft sighed. He was going to have a nervous breakdown with everyone fussing over him. He decided that a swift and immediate stop was the only way to end it. He cleared his throat.  
“Mother, Harriet. I need to speak to you. I need you to each understand that I am indeed in need of support. I will need help with tasks. I plan on doing for myself as soon as John says I can. However, if the two of you continue to fuss over me like a small child, I will go mad. I will not be polite about it. I will resist. Do not try to anticipate my needs.”  
Martha pursed her lips. Harry crossed her arms over her chest in a very Watson way. John shook his head and hung it in order to hide his smile.  
“Well.” Martha finally said, thrusting a piece of cake at her son. “Eat.” She said. Harry left the room and Mycroft followed her with his eyes. He looked at John and he nodded. He would follow his sister and see what was bothering her.  
*****************************************  
John came through the kitchen and found Sherlock and his father sitting at the table, each with a cup of tea in front of them and Sherlock was scrolling through something on his phone. John put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and bent down to kiss him on his head. Sherlock never took his eyes from his phone.  
“Outside.” He said. John nodded and Ben turned the page on the newspaper he was reading.  
“Any word from Anthea or Lestrade?” John asked. Sherlock shook his head and John headed outside.  
Mycroft’s house had a lovely flagstone patio that stepped down to a bit of lawn before heading off to a lightly wooded area. It was quintessentially English. John found his sister sitting in a large wicker chair smoking a cigarette.  
“All right then?” he asked, sitting in the chair next to her. She shook her head.  
“I’m scared.” She said. She took a drag off of her cigarette and let it out.  
“Of what, exactly.” John asked.  
“Of hurting him. Of letting him down. Of Moran. For you. For Sherlock. Jesus fucking Christ John, how do you live this way? Never knowing if Sherlock is going to come home? If he does that he’s not half dead? This is killing me. I can’t imagine it’s easier for you.” John smiled, his lips tight.  
“It fucking kills me every time he leaves the house. I want to chain him to the wall. But, I also know that it’s what makes him happy. And I try to live in the moment. I watched him die once. Watched him recover from being shot. But he was there when my wife and child died. It’s what we do for each other.” Harry sighed.  
“I don’t know if I’m made for this.” She said.  
“I know you are. And you can’t hurt him anymore. Not physically anyway. Just be with him. Get a book. Sit on the bed. Talk to him. You charmed him once, you can do it again.” John took her hand in his. “But please, be gentle.” He raised his eyebrows at her. He didn’t want to tell her what he was referring to,thoughhe thought she got the hint.  
Sherlock joined them outside. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it. Harry stubbed hers out, kissed her brother and went back inside.   
“Anthea just texted. She has some results. She will be over within the hour. Lestrade is on his way.” Sherlock said. John nodded. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “What’s wrong, love?”  
“I just want a chance to breath. To just be. Not looking over my shoulder. Not worrying. To be back in that bubble we had in the hotel in New York.” He said.  
“I want that, too.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around himself. John scrubbed his face with his hands and let out a breath. He stood up and went into the house. It was going to be a long day.

*******************************************  
Anthea always had supermodel good looks, as if she had stepped off of some runway somewhere. But today, she looked haggard. She was sitting on a chair near Mycroft’s bed, Sherlock and John leaning against the edges of the mattress. Harry was curled up with a book next to Mycroft and Greg was hovering around the outside of the room. It was not the war room any of them had envisioned, but it was enough to be out of the hospital.   
Sherlock deduced that Anthea was doing a fine job of running things for Mycroft but she was happy that he would be more accessible to her. He wondered when she last slept or eat. He made a mental note to make sure that she was given some time off to rest. Maybe even here in the bedroom that was for John and himself. Sherlock wanted to spend time with John at home, back at Baker Street. It was for their own sanity as well as everyone else’s.  
“We found that there were nothing more than other burner numbers on the mobile card. However, there was four things of interest.” Anthea started. She handed Mycroft a slim file and he looked at it before giving it to Sherlock. “First is a repeated number. A burner. But it was used right up until the moment you were rescued.”  
Mycroft nodded and urged her to continue. “Second was photos. It looked like surveillance. All of you. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Dr. Hooper and her boyfriend. Mrs. Hudson. But they weren’t anything at first glance to be worrisome. More like a catalog of persons of interest.” Copies of each of these photos were included. “Thirdly, there was a large file of data. Encoded. We are still working on it. And the last…. Well that was the most disturbing.”  
John glanced at the page of information. It was too technically foreboding for him. He let someone else explain.  
“In the last few years, sim cards have been used more as data storage. And this one was as well.” Mycroft stated. “It contains an algorithm we have been working on to allow the user to listen in on other calls. Other people’s calls.”  
“We’ve been tapped.” Greg said. Mycroft nodded.  
“New phones have been ordered for everyone involved. I have had the numbers listed for each of us and other contacts that are important. Dr. Hooper and Dr. Masters will be joining us all for dinner this evening. I have sent a team to sit on Mrs. Hudson and sent her a new phone as well. Dr. Watson, I would ask of you to call her and try to explain something.” Anthea expressed in her usual business like demeanor. Sherlock nodded.  
“Thank you Anthea. But I have one question.” She nodded. “When did you last sleep? Or eat?”  
Everyone looked at Sherlock. It was so out of his normal tone and normal verbiage, it shocked everyone. John ran a hand down his spine.   
“Mr. Holmes…. I….” she waved her hand. “I slept some time. I don’t remember when. And I ate recently.” Sherlock looked at her.   
“A small salad five, no six hours ago is not eating. I live with a man who insists that this is so.” Sherlock turned his gaze to Harry and Mycroft. “With your permission, brother,” Mycroft looked at his assistant for the first time that day, really looked at her and saw what Sherlock saw. Mycroft nodded, “Harry will get you a something to eat and then you need to sleep. There is an extra bedroom. Sleep before dinner. We will talk more then.”  
“Mr. Holmes, I need to deal with the Korean…” Mycroft held up a hand.  
“Anthea. You have been more than efficient through this ordeal. However, you are no good if you can’t even keep your eyes open. Eat. Sleep. I will deal with business. Now go.” Anthea gave him a small smile and he let one fall across his face briefly before Harry left the room with her.  
Greg looked through the file himself. He sat down on the floor and sighed. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us.”  
“That it does.” John said. Sherlock got up from the bed and left the room. John followed.  
Greg stood up. “I need to get back to the Yard. Keep my job.”  
Mycroft spoke. “If you ever desire to leave the Met, I could use someone like you.” Greg chuckled a little.  
“A mediocre middle age divorced detective? What use could I be to you?”  
“You have your merits, sir. Do not doubt that. But the offer stands.” Greg nodded and left the room.  
Mycroft sighed and looked at the papers spread before him. He looked at his phone and thought about all he had to do. But his knee was beginning to throb. He reached for the bottle of pain pills John had brought him and took one. He shook the hazy pain out of head and focused on his job.  
***********************************************  
John found Sherlock sitting on the flagstone patio out back. He was smoking a cigarette.   
“You want to go home for a while?” John asked.  
“Yes.” Sherlock answered. He got up and followed John through the house. John stopped to tell Harry they were going out for a while and would be back for dinner. They climbed into the car and sped away back to their flat.  
“I need to call Mrs. Hudson.” John said pulling out his phone. Sherlock looked out the window as John called.  
“Mrs. Hudson, hello. How are you?” John listened for a beat. “That’s lovely. Listen, there has been a bit of trouble here. Sherlock and Mycroft were messing about and they made someone angry.” Pause, “No we are fine. Mycroft’s got a broken leg. But we are fine. However, with all this mucking about there are a few things I need to tell you. A new phone is coming for you. This afternoon. Take this one and burn it.” Pause. “That’s right douse it in petrol and burn it. Melt it.” Pause. A long one. “I can’t tell you everything. But, trust me. And.. ah… the other thing…. Because of this person that is upset with the brothers, well, it’s a bit not good.” Pause. “Let’s just say, not good. So, you may see a black car around. It’s for protection. If you need anything, they will be there to help you. They will approach you once. They will tell you a code word. If you feel uncomfortable with anyone or anything, ask for that code word. Do not go with anyone you don’t know without that code word. Do you understand?” Pause. “Yes, we will be careful. Take care of yourself. We will see you soon.” John ended the call and sat back in his seat. Sherlock never turned from the window and reached out for John’s hand. He laced his finger through it and John sighed.  
“Will we ever have to not warn our friends about danger?” he asked. Sherlock remained blessedly quiet. “It’s always something.”  
“It is.”  
**************************************  
They arrived a Baker Street and climbed the stairs to the flat. There were two new phones sitting on the kitchen table. John took one and Sherlock the other. They were coded for security and they took a few tries to get them. John scrolled through his phone and shook his head.  
“I have never owned anything this modern or powerful. It’s like a mini computer in my hand.” Sherlock smiled.  
“It has its uses. At least it’s the newest model.” He said putting his in his pocket. John decided to try out the text message feature. Sherlock’s phone sent a ping in his pocket and he took it out to look at it. A smile crossed his lips and he looked at John.  
“I’m right here, you know. You can say it out loud.” Sherlock said. He came closer to John and put his arms around his waist.  
“I wanted it on your phone. I’m hoping you don’t erase it.”   
“I never erase anything you send me.” Sherlock leaned in for a kiss. John kissed the posh pink lips. He took the bottom one between his teeth and gave a tug. Sherlock moaned a bit.  
“How much time?” John asked against Sherlock’s neck.  
“Enough.” John nodded and pushed Sherlock against the wall. His hands explored across Sherlock’s chest and he pulled off his jacket. He undid each button, kissing the exposed flesh. The moans were coming quicker now from Sherlock’s mouth. His hands secure in John’s hair.   
John undid Sherlock’s belt and pulled it with a gentle tug. It made a wonderful sound and John smiled. He undid the fly and pulled the grey trousers down. “Oh, John.” Sherlock said as John gazed upon the hard cock that bobbed before him. John licked his lips and ran the tip of his tongue along the tip of Sherlock’s cock.  
“Oh, god.” Sherlock spat out. John opened his lips and sucked Sherlock in. John felt the pull in his own groin. He felt the heat from Sherlock and his own cock growing hard against his jeans. John twirled his tongue around the shaft in his mouth and pulled it in deeper. He pulled away and let just the tip hang back between his lips. With a sudden movement, he pushed ahead again and took Sherlock into the moist hot place that was his mouth.  
“John, your mouth… you look… I’m not going to last.” Sherlock said. John tasted the first drops of pre cum on his tongue and moaned. He settled into a rhythm of pulling in and out on Sherlock’s member. Sherlock’s hands tightened in John’s hair and he knew. John knew. He thrust his mouth closer again and Sherlock came, the hot salty semen dripping down the back of John’s throat.  
“Oh, John.” Sherlock said. He grabbed John and pulled him up to kiss him. “That was….”  
“I know.” John said. He pushed his own crotch against Sherlock’s thigh, desperate for the need to feel Sherlock on himself. Sherlock felt the need and rubbed his hand along John’s cock. John shifted into the hand and moaned.  
“Bed.” Sherlock said. John nodded and nearly ran up the stairs. Sherlock stripped off the rest of his clothes and joined John in the bedroom. John was pulling his jumper over his head and when his eyes were uncovered, he saw Sherlock leaning on the doorframe in all his lanky nakedness. John stopped and swallowed. It was the look of pure lust in Sherlock’s eyes that held him there.  
“You are so beautiful.” John said. Sherlock smiled and crossed the room to John.   
“As are you.”  
“Why the hell did we ever wait?” John asked as Sherlock helped him remove the rest of the clothes. Sherlock’s mouth was distracted with John’s chest and he didn’t answer. He instead led John to the bed and lay him down. “I want to fuck you.” Sherlock moaned at this statement.  
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Sherlock said. He pulled out a bottle of lube and poured some into his hand. He slicked John’s ready cock and pulled on it with a few long strokes. John responded with a fierce kiss to Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock poured a little into John’s hand and John reached the crease in Sherlock’s arse. He slid in one finger and felt the jump in his cock. Sherlock was stroking him lightly, with his fingertips. Keeping him on the edge. John slide in another finger and Sherlock moaned a bit. His own cock was beginning to harden again. John looked up from his back as Sherlock arched his back and John slid in the third finger. Sherlock’s cock got instantly hard as John fingered his prostate. “Fuck.” Sherlock growled, and John’s cock jumped in his hand. Sherlock kissed John and moved so that John could enter him. John’s hands reached his hips and he guided Sherlock down.  
“You feel so good.” Sherlock said. John bit his lip and nodded in agreement. John moved his slicked fingers over Sherlock’s newly hardened cock. He shifted his body so that he was thrusting into Sherlock at the same time he was stroking him. They moved together in the dance of their sweat slickened bodies. They had a rhythm now and John was amazed watching Sherlock above him. He leaned up into a kiss and Sherlock settled against his chest. John continued to pound into him and Sherlock felt the change as John was about to come. He leaned into his ear.  
“I love you.” He said as John let go and Sherlock felt the orgasm rip through him. John answered with a kiss as Sherlock came for the second time that afternoon.  
**********************************************  
John emerged from the shower and felt sated. Sherlock was sitting on his chair, sipping a cup of tea. There was one waiting for John. Sherlock pulled his long legs up underneath him and let his robe slip a little. His hair was still wet from his shower and he wanted nothing more than to stay home with John and to take him back to bed. But they had plans for dinner. Sherlock’s mind was a peace and he was comfortable.   
John sat down in his chair. “Ta.” He said lifting his cup up. “I should suck you more often.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Not that I am complaining, but why?”  
“Well, you leave me hot water in the shower, you make me tea… and the look on your face.” John smiled.  
“Yes.” Sherlock got up from his chair and came over to John. He gave him a longing kiss. “We need to dress.” John put down his tea.  
“Can you promise to behave tonight?” John asked. Sherlock gave a look of mock disgust.  
“I can’t promise that. But I will do my best.” John nodded. It was going to be the best that he could get. They went upstairs to dress and leave for Mycroft’s.

*****************************************  
Harry let Mycroft alone for an hour before she went back into the bedroom. He needed to work and Harry had pulled out a game of Scrabble to pass the time with his parents. She was losing, but she was trying hard to focus on the game, rather than run upstairs to be with him.   
Harry knocked softly on the door before she entered. She wasn’t being coy, she wanted to announce herself. Mycroft was speaking into his mobile and motioned for her to join him on the bed. He finished his call and she settled on the mound of over-stuffed pillows next to him.  
“I’m glad you came back.” He said. She smiled. “What kept you?”  
“I wanted to give you a chance to get some work done. I have been losing in Scrabble to your parents.” She said. Mycroft pulled her close to his right side and she snuggled into the space he created for her. His hand rested on her hip. She lay her head on his shoulder and traced his chest with her free hand.  
“Thank you. But the medication John is giving me for the pain is making work difficult. I think I am done for the day. Nothing left that can’t wait for tomorrow or Anthea.” He said. He leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”  
“I missed you too.” She said. She turned her head and landed a kiss on his lips. It was gentle and tender and within seconds, passion and lust rose up from him. His tongue slipped past her lips and entwined with hers. His hands shifted and cupped her breasts. She let out a low moan and moved to settle into a better position for snogging.  
Harry pulled away and sat back on her heels. “What’s wrong?” Mycroft asked. Harry shook her head. Mycroft touched the side of her face and she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand.  
“John cautioned me against anything yet. He said that you needed to take it easy for a while.” She said. Mycroft sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could see that he was half hard in the gym shorts he was wearing to accommodate his brace.  
“My doctor thinks he knows what’s best. But I think if we are careful, I can still make love to you. And right now, that is all I want to do.”   
“Oh, Myc.” She said. Mycroft pulled her closer to him and she crawled up the bed, being careful of his leg. Mycroft shifted over and Harry sat between his legs, carefully watching the pressure on his leg. She took his face in her hands and kissed his lips. Slowly, she cataloged his injuries on his face and kissed each one. She avoided the bandage on his ear. She feathered little kisses on his wrists, over the bandages that kept the bleeding raw skin hidden. She helped him remove the grey tee shirt he was wearing and ran her nails down his chest, watching him shiver under her touch.  
“I thought of this while I was in hospital.” He said. “I thought of getting back to you and holding you. Seeing your skin on mine.”  
“So did I.”  
“And you nearly undid me when you sent me that photo of you in my shirt…” his voice drifted at the memory of it. Harry placed her hand over the bandage on his heart. Mycroft sighed. “Don’t think about it.”  
“I can’t not.”  
“I am here. You are here. Help me make love to you.” He said. Harry reached up and allowed him to pull off the blue long-sleeved knit shirt she was wearing. Her lacy bra underneath was gone in a flash, as Mycroft put his talented fingers to work. Harry kissed him again as he cupped her breasts and gently pulled on her erect nipples. She reached her hand down and palmed his erect penis. He moaned into her mouth and she traced her fingers up to his waist band. Her tender hand dipped inside and found the heat of his hard cock. She used her thumb to gently rub over the tip of it and the sensation sent ripples through his body.  
“Damn woman.” He said. She laughed a bit.  
“Trust me?” she asked. Mycroft nodded and Harry changed her position. She pulled gently on his gym wear and he raised his hips to allow her to pull them down. She took his member in her hand and he watched with fascination. Never had she taken him into her mouth. She was wonderful and abandoned in bed, but having been a lesbian for most of her adult life, the skill had never been something she had developed. But she figured it couldn’t be much different than being with a woman.   
Harry traced her nails around the edge of the glans and Mycroft moaned. She followed the same path with her tongue and Mycroft nearly screamed in pleasure. She smiled and continued to move her tongue and lips down the outside of his cock. Mycroft fought for control of his desire and it almost slipped entirely through his fingers when she took the entire of him into her mouth.  
“Dear god.” He breathed out. Harry opened her throat and tried to suppress her desire to gag as the tip hit the back of her throat. She hollowed her cheeks and gently slid him out of her mouth. Mycroft’s hands were fisted one in the sheets and one in his pillow. Harry licked his tip before pulling him in deeper again. She felt the increase in his throbbing and the reaction in her own groin. She knew that he wasn’t going to last long and she wanted to feel him inside of her. She took her hand and undid the fly at her jeans and shimmied them and her panties off. She shifted so that Mycroft could touch her while her mouth still worked on him.  
“My god, you are so wet and ready.” He said. Harry smiled and he grabbed her chin. He pulled her up to his mouth for a kiss. “If this is a way to help me along so that I will not last as long, then you have succeeded.” His fingertips grazed her clit and she felt the electric wave surge in her body. She knew that neither of them were going to last long now. She shifted again and with careful arranging, she sat herself on his lap.  
With her right hand, she guided him into her hot wet depths and they both moaned at the sensation. She started off slowly moving up and down on him, letting him fill the entirety of her. But before long, his hips pushed at her arse and they found an easy rhythm.  
“I want to feel you come.” He whispered in her ear. She leaned back a bit and increased her pace. Mycroft placed his hands, his powerful hands on her hips and helped guide her up and down. Her face, thrown towards the ceiling, her eyes shut in ecstasy told him all he needed to know. He thrust into her and felt his own release as her body gave over to her own pleasure and clenched around him. She leaned on his chest as he ran his hands down her back.  
“Are you okay?” she asked as she caught her breath.  
“I am fine. But, I need to use the bathroom.” He said. She nodded. Scrambling off of him she went for the nearby crutches. Mycroft sat for a moment and gazed at the naked woman before him.  
Harry turned, suddenly self-conscience. “What?”  
“Nothing.” Mycroft said shaking his head. “You are so beautiful.” Harry blushed. Mycroft got up and got his balance.   
“Shower?” Harry asked. He shook his head. “Later.” He replied.  
******************************************  
Mycroft was settled into the large chair in the library that sat to the left of the fire place. Harry had helped him turn it so that he could see out into the room, instead of to the fireplace. His mother and Harry were fussing over the few nibbles that they were putting out. His father was sitting in the chair next to him. The women left the room.  
“She’s good for you.” Ben said.  
“I know. But she’s not at the same time.” Mycroft sighed.  
“You have been on your own too long. That girl in university. She would have made you happy.” Mycroft shot a look at his father.  
“How long… how much…. Wow.” Mycroft said in a very un-Mycroft kind of way.  
“I know enough. I don’t know all the details, but I figured it out.” Ben shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. Just be happy.” Mycroft regained his composure when he heard the front door open and shut. He heard the voices in the hall and knew it was Sherlock and John. John came into the room to check on his patient.  
“I told her not to.” John whispered in his ear, as he checked the bandages. Mycroft gave him a little roll of his eyes. “But you seem to be in one piece. Just take it easy.”  
“I should tell you and my brother to do the same.” Mycroft said with a sneer. John laughed and Mycroft flashed a quick and genuine smile. The doorbell rang and Mycroft heard Anthea answer it on her way to the library. She was up and showered and wearing slender jeans and a jumper. She looked less like a supermodel in John’s eyes and more approachable. She was followed by Molly and Rob.  
“Seems that only DI Lestrade is missing.” Anthea said as John greeted Molly and Rob. Sherlock gave Molly a genuine kiss on her cheek and shook Rob’s hand. He introduced his parents and Molly gave John the same shocked look he had when he met them for the first time. She pulled him to the side.  
“Those are… that’s…” she was at a loss.  
“I did the same thing the first time I met them. But don’t let that normal shell fool you. She’s a genius in her own right and he’s playing at being dumb. Trust me, once you get to know them you see where Sherlock and Mycroft come from.” Molly laughed a little twitter laugh. She was nervous. She came over to Mycroft. They had only really spent any time together at the fall. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.   
“Dr. Hooper.” Mycroft said.   
“Molly. Please.” She motioned for Rob to come near. “I would like you to meet my boyfriend, Dr. Robert Masters.” Rob shook Mycroft’s hand.  
“Rob, please and I must say, you have a lovely home.” Mycroft nodded. He hated small talk as much as his brother. Molly saw Harry at Mycroft’s elbow and tilted her head. They had met a few times and she was curious as to why she had chosen to sit where she was.  
“All right, Harry?” Molly asked. Harry nodded and lowered her face in an attempt to hide a smile.   
“All right Molly.” Came her answer.  
“Harry do you need help in the kitchen?” Molly asked, Harry nodded and they went out to the kitchen. Molly gasped at the size and moderness of it. “Wow.”  
“I know. A cook’s dream.” Harry offered Molly a wine glass and Molly nodded. She poured and Harry eyed it longingly.   
“Aren’t you going to have one?” Molly asked, suddenly feeling awkward. Harry shook her head and closed her eyes.  
“That’s how Myc and I met. I’m in recovery. He helped.”  
“So, then, you two…”  
“Yes. It’s still really new, but it’s wonderful.” Harry said with a smile. Molly looked at her glass. “Oh, come on. For me. Let me see you enjoy it. I’m good without it. I need to help Myc and I’m afraid that if I keep tip toeing around it…” Molly took a tentative sip. Harry smiled.  
“So, you and Mycroft.” Molly said. John came into the kitchen, chatting easily with Rob.  
“You and Mycroft what?” John asked. Molly blushed and snuggled against Rob. He wrapped his arms around Molly easily.  
“Nothing.” Harry said. She handed each of the boys a beer. She poured a glass of wine for Mycroft and headed back to the library. John held her back and let Molly and Rob pass. He looked at her and she sighed.  
“I asked you to take care.” John said.  
“I did. But you have no idea how forceful he can be….” Harry wandered off for a moment. John cleared his throat. “Sorry.”   
“And what about that?” he asked, his head inclining towards the wine.  
“Mycroft. Just a bit. I know it doesn’t mix with his meds.”  
“And you?”  
“I’m fine. Actually better than fine. I want to drain this. I really do. But I know I can’t. And I’m tired of everyone walking on eggshells about it. Fuck it. I’m a drunk. I am just like Daddy. And I am better. I am a better person as I can walk away from it.” She said. She went back to the group and sat down next to Mycroft handing him the glass. John came back into the room and Sherlock sent him a look. He let out a breath and turned his attention to something else. Sherlock came up and ran his hand along John’s rigid spine.  
John relaxed a bit at his touch. Molly came over to chat, while they waited for Greg to come. “You look good Sherlock, more relaxed than usual.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Well… I guess I am, right now.” John took a long pull on his beer and Sherlock watched him. His eyes drifted to Harry and John watched it. John shook his head just a bit and Sherlock smiled in response.  
****************************************  
Greg Lestrade was late. He cursed Sally Donovan. She stood between him and the lifts. He looked at his watch again. Finally, his frustration boiled over. He raised his hand in a stop motion and put it in front of her face. He pulled out his new state of the art phone and sent a text message.  
“Donovan is annoying me. Trying to leave. Running really late. Eat without me. Will talk when I get there.-GL” Donovan stood there with her mouth hanging open.   
“Lestrade… I was telling you that…” Greg whipped his head around. “And now you are texting….”  
“Shut it, Sally. I was off duty thirty minutes ago. I had a dinner engagement. I needed to send word that I am running late.” Greg said. He dodged her and walked to the lifts, the powerful sergeant right on his heels.  
“Dinner with whom?” she insisted.  
“Watson, Sherlock, Mycroft, their parents, Molly Hooper, and her boyfriend. A few other people.” Greg repeatedly pushed the button for down.  
“You are hanging out with the freak and his family now…?” Donovan spat. “I thought you were better than that.”  
“Donovan… Do. Not. Push. Me.” Lestrade roared. “They are friends. I planned on a nice dinner with friends. Now, I will see you tomorrow.” He entered the lift and felt his new phone vibrate in his pocket.  
“Hello?” Greg answered John’s call.  
“So, I will say take your time. We really don’t plan on talking until after Mr. and Mrs. Holmes go to bed. But Sherlock is here mumbling things in my ear about various ways to kill Donovan and make it look like Anderson did it.” Greg laughed and it bounced off the walls of the lobby he was crossing.  
“That’s what I was thinking.” Greg said. “I’ll be there soon.”  
“Anthea wants to keep a plate for you. She keeps asking when you will be here.” John said.   
“Anthea… really…” Greg smiled. “Do you think I have a chance?” John laughed.   
“We’ll see….” They ended the call and Sherlock shivered in the cold. They were outside so Sherlock could have a cigarette.  
“When this is all over, we are going to stop this habit.” John said. Sherlock waved at him with his cigarette.   
“We’ll see.” Sherlock was counting on his ability to get John to say yes to him about anything.  
*************************************************

Martha and Ben went to bed, or at least that is what they told everyone. Sherlock was sure that they just wanted to leave the “young people” alone. Mycroft was floating a bit on a medication and alcohol high. But he had been up for the better part of the evening and he needed to finish this. Molly and Rob only vaguely understood why they were there. Lestrade had come in and ate his dinner before settling in on the settee with Anthea. Mycroft cleared his throat. Everyone settled down.  
“I suspect that I need to start further back than the events of last week, to ensure that everyone understands the game we are currently involved in.” He took a breath. “I know what the outcome of this will be and you are each here because of the fact in some ways you are in danger.” Molly took a deep breath and Rob looked stunned. This was not something he was used to.  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rob asked. Molly put her hand on his arm.  
“This is what it is like. Being friends with Sherlock and John.” She said.  
“And this time you will not be dismissed as unimportant.” Sherlock said. Molly smiled.  
Mycroft took a sip of the water John had brought him and began. He traced over his history with Moran, their meeting and vaguely referenced their work together. John left the room while Mycroft recounted the events of Mary and Jane’s deaths and the discovery of her brother. He returned when Mycroft was retelling the events of that afternoon and the discovery of the photographs. Sherlock opened his arms and John settled against him. He looked at each face in the room. Everyone here was family and someone he cared about. And they were all in danger.  
“So. That brings us to the new phones and us gathering here.” Mycroft finished. Molly swallowed hard. But it was Harry who spoke next.  
“So, what is he planning? What can you tell us?” Harry asked. Mycroft took a breath before continuing.  
“Sebastian Moran is a patient man. He will wait. Until we let our guard down. Then he will tear us apart. One by one. I suspect he will use torture or just a proper rifle and scope. Whatever his mood is. Sherlock, John, and I will begin to work on the network. I have a few leads on the money that is funding it. If we take away the money, then it will wound the beast.” Sherlock nodded at this. John noticed he was stiffer than he was before. He wanted to jump up and run into the fray. John rubbed his thumb over Sherlock’s knuckles and he calmed some.  
“I am also working on a few parts of this dilemma. There are other factors at play. Anthea, have we got anything from the code breakers?” Mycroft asked. Anthea pulled out her phone and shook her head.  
“They are making headway, but it’s complex.” She said. She put her phone away and listened again, her body tilting towards Greg more.  
“So, what’s our next step?” Molly asked.  
“I suggest we meet at least once a week. Have dinner. Support each other. Anthea has briefed you each on the code words. It will look natural.” Mycroft said. Molly nodded. Everyone agreed.  
“So, we wait. We live. We breathe.” John answered. “We go on.”


	8. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ways of distracting oneself while waiting.....

Chapter 8- Distractions

John woke up to a bit of noise in the sitting room downstairs. Sherlock had not yet come to bed. He rolled over and looked at his phone. It was late. Almost bordering on early. He sighed and hauled his body out of bed. Sherlock was bored. John stopped in the doorway to the sitting room, watching Sherlock turn the sitting room into a grand experiment.  
“Stop.” John said. Sherlock froze. He slumped.  
“I woke you.” He said. He had books in both hands and he set them down on the low table.  
“Just be glad it was me and that Mrs. Hudson is away.” John came to him and grabbed his hands. “What on the bloody earth are you looking for?”   
“A book. A book that I had…” Sherlock sighed. “Never mind. It was nothing.” He waved away the thought. But John knew him better than that.  
“What book, love. I’ll help.” Sherlock rattled off a title and John smiled. He walked into Harry’s room and pulled the book from her bedside table, came back and handed it to Sherlock. “Why this one?” John asked at Sherlock’s relieved face. “It’s a silly romance novel.”  
“It’s not important.” Sherlock said. He held onto the book as if it contained the secrets to life.  
“It is to you. Tell me.” John sat in his chair. Sherlock mirrored him.  
“It was a book that my mother loved and she read it to me. I read it from time to time. I would try to figure out why they loved each other. I never understood it.”  
“But why did you need to find it tonight?” John asked. He was concerned. Even for Sherlock his behavior was odd.  
“I was thinking about everything and nothing. I started to wonder why you love me.” John smirked.  
“You are an idiot.”  
“I am not.” Sherlock pouted. John’s face softened.   
“I love you. You are brilliant. Kind when no one is looking. Handsome. Legs that go on for miles. That arse. I could write for hours about it. But mainly, because you are you. My fucking brilliant idiot of a tall tosser boyfriend. Now, put down the book, come to bed.” Sherlock didn’t move. John crossed the space between them and sat on Sherlock’s lap. “Come to bed and I will show you why I love you.” John’s hand fell in Sherlock’s lap and Sherlock’s eyes got wide.  
“Bed.” He said in a low moan.  
“Yes, bed. And the next time you get bored, I can find ways to keep you occupied.” Sherlock grinned at the idea and they went upstairs.  
*************************************************  
Sherlock had just taken his shirt off and was climbing back on the bed when his phone sent the shrill trill that was a text message. He was trying hard to ignore it, but Moran still at large…. He sighed as John handed it to him.  
“Case. Need you both. Double murder. – GL”   
“What’s got you perplexed?-SH”  
“No blood. No weapon. Room locked.- GL” Sherlock’s eyes got big. John was up and throwing clothes at Sherlock.  
“On our way.-SH” John smiled as Sherlock looked at the choices that John had pulled from the wardrobe. He dressed quickly and was out the door.

*********************************************  
Donovan and Anderson nearly fell over at the sight of Sherlock pulling John by his hand through the crime scene. Lestrade put his phone away in a hurry as he saw John and Sherlock approaching.  
“I hope you weren’t sleeping.” Lestrade said when Sherlock went to examine the bodies.  
“Nope. We were… not sleeping.” Greg coughed and turned his head to hide his embarrassment.  
“Sorry, mate.” He said.  
“It’s fine.” John said. “Trust me, Sherlock after a case….” Greg blushed again and Donovan tried to hide her repulsion. Sherlock came over and spoke to Anderson, insulting him, but he couldn’t remove the smile John saw in his eyes.   
“Lestrade, tell this idiot that I know what I am doing.” Sherlock yelled from five feet away. Lestrade shook his head.  
“I swear, your boyfriend owes me big tonight at dinner. Make sure he buys a good bottle of wine.” Lestrade called over his shoulder as he went to referee between the head of forensics and the consulting detective.  
John turned his head and Donovan looked him over. “You and Lestrade are awful good mates suddenly. He gave me a dressing down about your… about the freak the other day.” She said.  
“And you most likely deserved it.” John said, his words flat. He did not want to get drawn into a conversation with her. He was rescued. He saw the car before he heard the click of the heels on the ground.  
“Good Morning, Anthea.” John said. She stopped texting on her phone long enough to look up.  
“Good morning …. Well, I guess this is the part where we truly decide if our relationship is more than it has been. So, I’ll call you John and you call me An.” She said. Donovan watched the whole exchange and her alpha female came out.  
“An, this is…”   
“Sergeant Sally Donovan.” Anthea said. “I know.”  
“Of course.” John smiled.   
“And you are…” Donovan let it hang. She didn’t have to wait. Greg saw her and came over, with a sheepish grin on his face.  
“An.” He swept her into a kiss and Donovan’s mouth hit the ground. John chuckled and hid it behind his hands. Sherlock stalked over and he smiled at Donovan’s face. He leaned down to John and put his hands on his face and drew him into a deep kiss as well. Donovan’s face went red before she walked off to gossip with Anderson.  
“That was mean.” John said. Greg held his arm around An and looked at Sherlock. He shrugged.  
Sherlock rattled off his findings and Greg kissed An one more time before giving instructions to the still upset Donovan. He came back and checked his watch. An nodded and kissed Sherlock and John before heading back to her car.  
“See you later.” She said to the men before she climbed in. Greg stood for a second.  
“Thanks for the case.” He said. He shrugged and followed his new girlfriend.  
“Well, I knew it was bound to happen.” John said. Sherlock nodded and they went off to get some breakfast.

***************************************  
Harry sat up in bed, as if she was attached to wires. She looked to her left and realized that Mycroft was attempting to get up. She tried to crawl across the bed and he waved her away. His face was almost back to normal and he was managing to walk well with the crutches.  
“I just need to go use the loo.” He said, his voice deep and rough from sleep. She nodded and curled up in his vacated spot. It was warm and smelled like him. She snuggled down and drifted back to sleep. Mycroft sat in the chair near his window and looked out into the early morning mist. John was coming by to take the stiches out of his chest this afternoon and he was going to check on his ear.   
Mycroft heard Harry get up from the bed and she sat on the floor at Mycroft’s feet. She leaned against his good leg and he absently reached and buried his hand in her hair.  
“You okay?” she asked.   
“Hmm? Yes. I’m fine.” He said.  
“Why didn’t you come back to bed?” she asked.   
“Someone took my spot.” He said. She giggled. “And, I wanted to get up for a while.”  
“We have a big day.” She said. “Your parents are leaving. We have the group coming over for dinner. John is coming for your medical treatment.”  
“Yes, we do.” His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Harry got up and handed it to him. “Thank you.” He said and gave her a kiss.  
“Tea?” she asked as he answered his call. He nodded and gave her a smile. Harry went to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.  
She came back shortly and Mycroft had moved to the makeshift desk he had put in the bedroom. He was having difficulty with the stairs from time to time. He was typing away at his laptop and he didn’t look up when Harry came into the room. She set down the tea at his elbow and went into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stripped off her clothes. She stepped in the hot water and felt the tension flow out of her body. She heard Mycroft’s crutches as they creaked. She looked out and he was standing at the edge of the bathroom.  
“You okay?” she asked. He shook his head and sat heavily on the bench they had moved just inside the door. She rinsed off and quickly stepped out of the shower. She grabbed a robe and put it around herself. She sat down next to him and he leaned against her.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked.  
“I’m sad. I’m frustrated. I’m just upset.” He said. Harry pulled him close.  
“So, let’s do something.” She said.  
“I can’t.” He motioned to his leg. Harry shook her head.  
“I didn’t mean right now.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. She jumped up and kissed Mycroft on his lips. “Do you trust me?” she asked.  
“More than you can ever know.” He said. She smiled and kissed him deeper. She scampered off to get dressed and disappeared down stairs for the day.  
****************************************  
Martha and Ben Holmes knew enough to know that their lives were not safe. But they didn’t want to stay in London. They wanted to get back to their lives. Mycroft and Anthea worked for hours making sure that the house in Sussex was going to be as safe as it could be. But they were leaving.   
Martha walked around the room, making sure that there was nothing being left behind. Ben was zipping up the suitcase and he put it on the floor.  
“Is that everything?” Martha asked. Ben nodded.  
“I believe so.”   
“Good then.” She fussed with the pillows and sighed. “I feel like we are leaving our children for the last time.”  
“We aren’t. But they are happy.” Ben said.  
“It’s funny. It takes a brother and a sister to make them happy.” Ben nodded and hugged his wife.  
“We did good by them. We raised them the best we knew how.” Ben said. Anthea cleared her throat at the door. Ben helped her carry the bags down to the car. Martha went to find Mycroft in his room.  
“Myc?” she called.  
“Come in mother.” He said. She entered the room. “So, it’s time then.”  
“Yes. Your father is outside. Please tell your brother that he needs to call more often.” Mycroft nodded. Martha looked out the window.   
“Mother, what is wrong?”  
“Nothing is wrong.” She said. Mycroft gave her his favorite stare. She smiled. “It doesn’t work on me Myc.” He chuckled.  
“It was worth a try.” He said. “But, I know you. What is wrong?”  
“Are you happy?” she asked. “That’s all I have ever wanted for the two of you. To be happy.” Mycroft did something out of his normal comfort zone. He used his wheeled office chair to come to his mother. He grabbed her hands.  
“I am happy, mother. My relationship is new, but it makes me happy. I have friends. I have a family that I care about. Sherlock and John are happy.” He sighed. “This is something you need not fret about.”  
“Good.” She said. She leaned down and kissed him and left.  
*********************************************  
Mycroft sat on the bed as John removed the stitches on his chest. It was healing well. The ear no longer needed a bandage and his wrists and ankles looked good. The biggest hindrance was the knee.  
“I would like to get another scan of your knee.” John said as he cleaned up his supplies.  
“When?”  
“The sooner the better. I would like to see how it’s healing. If it’s healing well, we can consider taking the brace off for short periods of time.”  
“For a shower.” Mycroft nearly moaned at the thought.  
“Yes. Like for a bath.”   
“Then make the arrangements. We can go now.” John looked at his phone. He nodded and made the calls.   
****************************************************  
Sherlock walked around the corner of the concrete hallway he was navigating. Mycroft had asked him to check on the progress of an asset. Sherlock was in the dark about a lot of the facts in this case, but he knew that it was an important part of trapping Moran. He arrived at the door and opened it with a sweep.   
Sherlock entered a small darkened room. There was a low counter that served as a desk and the entire wall was taken up by a two way mirror. He could see into the room that a joined the small one he was in. He saw that there was someone standing in the corner of the darkened space where he was watching someone in the other room.  
“Mr. Holmes.” The figure came out of the shadows. “Your brother said you would be here.”  
“Yes.” Sherlock noticed that the man had been working for the government for years and didn’t want to stand out. He did not give Sherlock his name or shake his hand.  
“I am not sure how much Mr. Holmes explained to you about how we would like you to cooperate.”  
“Mycroft stated that the person of interest has been working for Moran and was interested in assisting with information in order to strike a plea bargain. I am here to assess the progress of this transition and assist with questioning this person. You have an ear piece in place. I am to relay questions to retrieve further information.” Sherlock was sure that Mycroft was looking at an exercise in futility, but he needed the distraction. The employee nodded. He left the room through a second door and within seconds appeared in the room with the subject.  
Sherlock appraised the man sitting at the table for the first time. Ex- military. Late forties. Never married. Career mercenary. Worked at one point for Moriarty, but had loyalties to only the highest bidder. Not well. Cancer or something equally as devastating. Resigned to ending his career and retiring anonymously. Smart, cunning but a follower and not a leader. The government man sat across from the table.  
“So, Mr. Cameron. Let’s go over this one more time. You help us flush out Moran and we set you up on a nice quiet island.”  
“That’s what you keep telling me.” Cameron’s voice was soft and quiet. Even and emotionless. Sherlock knew that Cameron thought he had the upper hand. “I’ve been here for a while now. Even Moran expects me to check in once in a while.”  
“That’s been taken care of.” The government lackey said. Sherlock spoke into the microphone.  
“Ask him this. Why did he speak to Mycroft when he was being held.” The government employee gave a simple nod.  
“Tell me this Cameron. You were in the shadows. You were watching everything Moran did and said to Mr. Holmes. Yet, you decided after Moran left to answer Mr. Holmes’ questions. Why? Why did you decide then to speak?” Cameron pondered the question for a while. His words were choice and measured.  
“When Moran told me my assignment, it was not what I saw happen. I heard what he said to Mr. Holmes. This was an old grudge. It was personal. I do not get involved in the whys. But there was something in Moran that was normally measured, but was….” He waved his hand. “The best as I can describe it was the way I saw Moriarty with Mr. Holmes’ brother. I could almost taste the insanity.”  
“So, you had a moral righting?” the employee asked.  
“No. I.” Cameron was stumped. Sherlock knew that he had him on the ropes.  
“Ask him if he was scared.”  
“Were you scared?” Cameron laughed a little.  
“Maybe. But there was something else. Listening to the two of them. I knew they had a past together. And I was finished. I’ve been thinking of retiring for some time. I knew that the minute I left the business I would be dead. I figured that Mr. Holmes would be an ends to a means.”  
“Ask him why we should trust him. What guarantees him delivering on what he says he will?” Sherlock asked.  
“And what assurances can you give us that you won’t just run the minute we let you out? I could throw you in a dark dank cell and never let you see the light of day again.” Sherlock saw the corners of Cameron’s mouth turn up.  
“In theory, you could do just that. You could also track me, chip me and a million other ways to track me. But you also know that Moran would be expecting that. I think at this point I have you. I could give you my word. But this isn’t eighteenth century politics. This is reality. So, trust is all you have.” Sherlock nodded his head. Exactly what he thought he would hear. But there was something genuine in what the man said. Sherlock felt confident that he wanted Moran taken care of as much as he did.  
“I think I have what I need.” Sherlock said and left the room. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his brother.  
“Set him loose tomorrow. But don’t plant him with a chip. Clone his cell. Let’s see what happens.- SH” He put his phone back in his pocket and left the building.


	9. Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is watching.... and Mycroft is a stupid git.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok.... back on track....  
> So sorry about the missing post. My life has just been a bit crazy and I also blame all the wonderful other fics that I have been toooooooo absorbed in. But my wonderful beta has been great in fixing all my too numerous for words mistakes. Thanks mafm!  
> So, the action is heating up. Keep reading!

Chapter 9- Watching  
John held the x-rays up to the light. He read them for a second time. There was some healing, but the damage was great. Most likely the fastest and most effective way to fix the damage was to replace the knee. It would be quicker, and ultimately less painful for Mycroft. He pulled out his phone and looked for a number. He hit send.  
“Hello John! How the hell are you mate?” Mike Stamford’s voice boomed at the other end.  
“I’m well. Thanks for asking Mike. I have a question though.”  
“Ask.”  
“I need a consult. I need the best bone doc in town.” John said. He put the x-ray down.  
“What did you break Sherlock’s arm finally?” he asked with a laugh.  
“No, another patient.” John took a breath. He hated lying to Mike but he needed to shield him from the truth. The hesitation was only going to add to the falsehood. “Bar fight. Chap got pretty banged up. Knee is shattered. I’m thinking that a replacement might be safer.”  
“Then you should call O’Sullivan. Moira O’Sullivan. She’s at St. Elizabeth’s. Tell her I gave you her name. Is this a NHS patient or private?” Mike asked. John jotted down the name.  
“Private.”  
“I would think she would consult this afternoon. Might have surgical clearance by tea tomorrow.”  
“Thanks Mike. I owe you one.” John said. He thought he owed Mike a lot more than one. After all he was the one that introduced John to Sherlock.  
“How’s Sherlock? And Harry?” Mike asked. John rattled off some half-truths and asked after his family.  
“Let’s grab a pint soon.” John said. Mike agreed and they hung up their call. John found the number for Dr. O’Sullivan and dialed. She personally answered her phone.  
“Dr. O’Sullivan? My name is Dr. John Watson. Dr. Mike Stamford gave me your name and number. I need a consult on a knee.”  
“Dr. Watson. Please call me Moira. I know who you are.” She said.  
“John. This is a private client and there will be issues with…. Well…. There will be issues.”  
“Where is the patient now?” she asked.  
“We are at Barts.” John said. “I just did a series and I think replacement will be better than healing.”  
“Give me twenty.” She said. She rang off and John went to the waiting area where Mycroft was sitting with Anthea, discussing business. Mycroft looked up when John came into the room.  
“So, judging by your face and the fact that you are still clutching your mobile, things are not well.” Mycroft said.  
“It’s healing. But I have asked for a consult. Moira O’Sullivan. She’s supposed to be the best orthopedist.” John said. Anthea was already typing on her phone. She nodded her head in agreement with John’s assessment. “She’s on her way. I’m beginning to think that replacing the knee is a better option.”  
Mycroft nodded his head. He had to agree with John’s reasoning. And again was a curve to throw Moran’s plan off. He wouldn’t be as debilitated as Moran wanted him to be. He pulled his lips into a brief smile.

**************************************  
Harry sat at the dining room table and looked at her brother and Mycroft. She pursed her lips.  
“So, how long will he be gone this time?” She finally asked.  
“Two days.” John answered.  
“And then?”   
“If all goes well, he will be walking in the door on both legs.” Harry nodded her head, got up from the table and left the room.  
****************************************  
Sherlock stood on the side of the road, reading his email while he waited for Dr. Masters. He was meeting him at his surgery and they were picking up Molly on their way to dinner. Sherlock felt the pin pricks of eyes on the back of his neck. He knew that somewhere someone was watching him. Slowly, he lifted his eyes and scanned the area around him. There was a CCTV camera trained on him, but he knew that it wasn’t what he was feeling. He looked to the shadows. There were a few homeless around. Sherlock decided to tap his network.  
He switched from his email to his texts. He sent out a broadcasting text. “Anyone near me? –SH”  
He got a reply from three people. “Yes”  
“I am being watched. From my northwest I suspect. Send me pictures. Send me information.- SH”  
He waited a few minutes and Rob came out from his surgery. He waved at Sherlock and he nodded.  
“Hey, Sherlock.” Rob said as he approached.  
“Robert. Lovely snow.” He said. Rob stiffened. It was part of the code. Sherlock looked at his mobile. He was getting pictures.  
“Yes, Sherlock. I think we should get the car.” Sherlock nodded and Rob held his right hand in a fist. A black car came to their side quickly. Rob got inside the car and Sherlock looked over the street before getting in.  
“Text Molly. Tell her to wait inside the door and to come as soon as she sees the car.” Rob nodded and sent his text. Sherlock scanned the pictures. He pulled up his app for text.  
“Code yellow. Masters with me. Retrieving Molly. Meet at MH now.- SH” He hit send. He looked through the pictures again.  
*************************************  
Mycroft’s attention was broken as he was typing on his laptop. His phone received a text at the exact same time as John’s, Harry’s and Anthea. They were sitting in the study, awaiting for the rest of their friends. They all read their texts. Mycroft shot John a look.  
“I’ll text him. An, you heard from Greg?” She nodded, as his text was incoming.  
“He’ll be here in ten.” She said. John nodded. He replied to the text, privately.  
“You okay?- JW”  
“Fine. Just being watched.- SH”  
“How long until you are here?-JW”  
“If we push, twelve minutes.-SH” John felt his anxiety heighten. “Stop worrying. I’m fine.-SH”  
“It’s my job to worry about you. Need to see you.-JW”  
“I understand.-SH”  
“Say it. I need to hear it.-JW”  
“I love you. Now, relax. Ten minutes. X-SH”  
“Thank you. I love you too.- JW” John sat back. He wanted to hold Sherlock in his arms. He stood up from the chair he was sitting in. He walked to the back of the house and paced the length of the patio.  
“He’s worried.” Harry said out loud.  
“I would be too.” Mycroft said. He finished the email he was working on and saw a new email waiting from his brother. He opened it to find pictures. He closed it quickly and shut the top of his lap top. It could wait until he could discuss it with his brother, John, and Lestrade later. He turned to Harry.  
“Nothing will happen with me in the hospital. I will be fine.” He reassured her. He reached out and she came to sit on his good leg. He held her close to his chest.  
“I know.” She said.   
**************************************************  
Sherlock was upset, but he didn’t let it show. He and Rob reassured Molly that nothing more than someone was watching him. Sherlock jumped out of the car as soon as he arrived. He saw Lestrade’s car in the drive and knew that they were the last to arrive. John had heard them arrive and met him in the front hall. They looked at each other and Sherlock stepped into the front parlor. John followed and closed the door behind him. Sherlock took off his jacket and John stood in front of him.  
“I thought I was beyond this.” John said. His posture was stiff and his arms were across his chest. Sherlock nodded.  
“I thought I was too. But my first thought was that I was glad he was near me and not you.” John took a deep breath.   
“Fuck it all.” He said. Sherlock nodded. He walked closer to John. John relaxed and moved his arms to his sides but kept his hands in fists.  
“I agree.” Sherlock said. John looked up and met his eyes. Sherlock had panic in his eyes. It matched the fear in John’s.  
“I’m worried about us.” John said. “I’m worried that we will make bad decisions.”  
“I am scared, John.” Sherlock said. “I am genuinely scared that this will tear us apart. That I will not be able to solve a case, or that I will miss something because I am distracted by my love for you.” John pursed his lips.  
“I love you too.” John loosened his fists and held out his arms. Sherlock came to him and John held him as he shook with silent sobs.  
“Fuck, John. What you have done to me?” Sherlock said as he put his face in John’s neck. John felt his own face hot and wet with tears.  
“What you have done to me.” Sherlock took a deep breath and lead John to the sofa. He sat down and John let him put his head in his lap. John ran his fingers through the raven curls.  
“We make a fine pair.” John said.   
“That we do.”  
“I don’t want to go out there.” Sherlock nodded.  
“I want to go home.” John pulled out his phone and sent Mycroft a text. He knew that he would understand.  
“We are not joining you. We are going home. I will see you in the morning. Have An email us later.-JW” He leaned down and kissed Sherlock. His mobile buzzed in his hand.  
“Understood.-MH” Sherlock got up, picked up his jacket and tried to look more like himself. John walked out the door and directly into the back of the waiting car.  
“We should stop to get some take away.” John said.   
“Thai.” John agreed.  
“I just want to sit on the sofa and watch crap tellie for a while.” John said.  
“Sounds perfect.” Sherlock agreed. 

****************************************  
Harry watched Mycroft pull out his phone and look at the text alert. He pursed his lips and replied. Lestrade was sitting on the settee with An and Molly was talking in a low voice with him as she tried to calm Rob.  
“Sherlock and John will not be joining us.” Mycroft said. All the eyes in the room turned to him at once.  
“Is everything alright?” Lestrade asked.  
“I suspect that they are both in need of a night off. They are certainly entitled to it.” Mycroft answered.  
Harry sighed. Mycroft decided to speak freely.  
“All eight of us are not only under the microscope of Moran’s gaze, but starting in new relationships. I suspect that John and Sherlock are in a unique position that not only are they part of the threat, but they are part of the solution. John has been more than efficient with his duties and with his care with all of us. I think part of him is still grieving for his family .” Harry cleared her throat.  
“I think in some ways, he’s still grieving Sherlock too. You didn’t see his face when the text came through.” She said. Molly lowered her eyes and Greg let out a steady stream of breath.  
“I think we forget that they deserve time to break down too.” Molly said. They all nodded and decided to think of other things for the night.

*****************************************  
John went into the kitchen with the bag of take away when they arrived home. Sherlock went into the bedroom and changed his clothes. He came back down and sat on the stool in the kitchen. John sat on the other one and looked at his lover.  
“What’s wrong?” Sherlock asked.  
“I’m just a bit overwhelmed.” John said. His fingers made lazy loops over the top of the table.  
“It is no wonder. You have been taking care of me, Harry and Mycroft for days. You have been worried about keeping my parents occupied; worrying about Molly and Rob;.and watching out for Lestrade. You have been carrying a lot of weight. It’s no wonder.” Sherlock said. John felt the corner of his mouth turn up.  
“Shite. I have been doing all that.” Sherlock nodded his head and put his hand on top of John’s to still it.  
“Yes, you have. And you have been amazing at it.” Sherlock said. John took in a deep breath. “But something happened this evening.”  
“Yes. I saw it in your face too.” John said, looking at the table. He wasn’t ashamed of what happened, he was simply too raw to look in Sherlock’s eyes.  
“Yes.”  
“Yes.”  
John sat for a while and looked at the table. “Do you think that our family thinks we are sneaking off like two teenagers to have a shag?” John laughed.  
Sherlock felt the edges of his mouth turn up. He sighed.  
“Jesus John. I don’t care if they do. You and I…. something happened this afternoon. I have never felt like this.” Sherlock said. John nodded.  
“I was scared when you sent me the text this afternoon. I was…. Was truly scared. Scared of losing you.” John said. His voice hitched. “I just got you back and I don’t want to lose you again.” Sherlock stood and came around the table. He gathered John in his arms.  
“I don’t want to lose you either.” Sherlock said. “I never want to be without you.”  
“So, now what do we do?” John asked. Sherlock shrugged.  
“We find some crap on the tellie. We eat out of the take away boxes. We hold each other until we are tired then we go to bed.” Sherlock said.  
“Sounds like a perfect evening.” John said. Sherlock kissed his head and they headed to the sofa.

***************************************************  
Sebastian Moran watched as Sherlock Holmes stood in the window of his flat. He shifted back into the shadow, just a bit, as he thought he saw Sherlock’s eyes come over his hiding spot. Sherlock closed the drapes and Moran smiled and watched.  
   
Chapter 10- Bloodhounds on the Trail

Mycroft’s surgery went well and a mere four days after John made the initial phone call, Mycroft walked out of the hospital. The knee was going to heal well and Mycroft was much happier for it. He went back his home and climbed the stairs, slowly, but he climbed them none the less.  
Two days later, Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mycroft dress for work. He straightened his tie and caught Harry watching him in the mirror. Her face was sad. He came to her, with a slight limp and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“What is wrong, darling?” he asked. She shook her head.  
“Nothing. I was just thinking how much I enjoyed having you here with me.”  
“You should consider going back to work yourself.” He said. He instantly regretted his choice of words.  
“I… well.” She got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Mycroft hung his head and took a deep breath. He got up gingerly and went to the door. He didn’t want to invade her space, but he wanted to try and fix it before he left.  
“Harry, I am sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was simply suggesting that you need to start to have a more normalized life. That going back to work would give you something to focus on.” Mycroft said through the wooden door.   
“I understand.” She said. He could tell she was upset.  
“Harry, I love you. There is no changing that. I want you in my life. I want to share everything with you. I am not asking you to leave or implying that you need to…” the door whipped open. Harry was dressed and she had rage in her eyes.  
“I said I understand.” She brushed past him and left the room. Mycroft sighed and finished readying for work.

*********************************************  
Harry rang the bell at Baker Street and Sherlock came to answer it in his dressing gown. It was almost nine and he was surprised to see Harry standing on his doorstep.  
“What did my brother do?” he asked. Harry made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “arsehole” and she climbed the stairs. John was pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen and Harry took it when he finished. John looked at Sherlock when he came into the kitchen. Sherlock silently moved his mouth to say “Mycroft.” And John closed his eyes.  
“Good morning.” John said. Harry put her coffee down on the table and leveled her gaze at her brother.   
“Fuck good morning.” She said. Sherlock stifled a laugh and took his coffee into the sitting room to open his laptop and stay out of Harry’s wrath, but close enough to hear her.  
“What happened?” John asked.  
“Mycroft.” She spat.  
“What did he do?”  
“He told me that I should get a job.” John nodded.  
“And….”  
“He went back to work this morning. He told me that I should go back to work too. As if I have asked him for a dime. He spoke as if I was going to sit around all day and eat chocolates and lounge. Not contribute to anything. It was like he wanted me out of the house while he wasn’t there.” Harry ranted. Sherlock picked up his phone and sent a text.  
“Flowers. She’s here with us. Dinner tonight. You have not felt the whole of a Watson rage when you have hurt their hearts.-SH”  
“Anthea is arranging the flowers. I will have them sent there. I will make a reservation for dinner. –MH”  
“Not Anthea. She will see it as a personal affront. You made this mistake. You need to fix it.-SH”  
Harry continued to rant at John who was watching Sherlock text out of the corner of his eye. Harry seemed to be running out of steam and stopped talking to sip her coffee. John went into the sitting room to retrieve an ashtray. He leaned down to Sherlock.  
“He screwed this up. Make sure he fixes it, not Anthea.” John said.  
“Already did.” Sherlock smiled at John and John went back into the kitchen.  
“What did I do?-MH” Sherlock’s phone read. Sherlock chuckled.  
“From what I understand, and this is difficult for me to understand, but she thinks that you want her to return to work because you don’t want a trophy wife.-SH”  
“A wife, yes But an independent,happy wife with her own feelings of self-worth.-MH”  
“You have a lot of making up to do tonight. I do not envy you.-SH”  
“Neither do I at the moment.-MH”

********************************************  
John went to answer the door an hour later. He and Harry had been sitting reading in the sitting room while Sherlock was working on his laptop. John staggered up the stairs with the large basket of flowers.  
“Harry, these. Are. For. You.” John said dropping it on the low table. Harry’s brow knit. She took the card and opened it. She recognized Mycroft’s hand.  
“I am sorry, my darling. I did not intend for my words to hurt you. I love you with all my heart and I will do anything for you. I will give you anything. I will give up anything for you. Please allow me to take you to dinner tonight to show you how sorry I am. Yours forever, Myc.” Harry read the card several times over and it burned in her brain and in her memory. John saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as he tried not to smile.  
Harry took her phone and went into the bedroom that she had been using to text. John walked over to Sherlock.  
“Beer.” He said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “If we ever have a row, send me lager.” Sherlock smiled.  
“And what will you send me?”  
“Body parts.” Sherlock laughed. John bent down and kissed him on his lips.  
“I want to show you something.” Sherlock said. He handed John his phone with his recent conversation with Mycroft on the screen. John read it and stared at Sherlock.  
“Did your brother basically just tell you that he intends to marry my sister?” John asked. Sherlock didn’t say anything. “How fucked up will it be if they get married before us?”  
“Married.” Sherlock tried out the word on his tongue.  
“Well, not today.” John said. Sherlock looked at him as he left the room.

******************************************  
Greg Lestrade poured over the last two pages of the paperwork he had been working on for the last hour. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at any longer. He shut the file and decided that he needed to get a cup of coffee and a walk to clear his head.  
Anthea had started spending all her free time, which was limited, at his house. Greg kept the house in the divorce, as his wife decided to take the boys and move to the country. He saw the boys no less often than he did when he was working. But they were teenagers now and were talking of spending the summer holiday with him in London.  
Greg’s brain was sleep deprived, but Anthea was beautiful and desirable. He felt like a boy again around her and it was starting to affect his work. Donovan caught him in the lobby, as she was going for coffee herself.  
“Mind some company?” she asked. He nodded his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What have you been working on with Watson and the freak?”  
“Nothing.” He said.   
“Greg, I know you. You have been distracted and spending a lot of time with them. You have to be working on something.” The walked side by side down the street. Spring was turning into summer and the May air was warm.  
“I’m seeing someone.” Greg admitted. “And I have been spending time with John and Sherlock. We are friends.” He took a moment to order his coffee and paid for Sally’s as well.  
“That girl from the crime scene.” Sally said. “The one who looks like a supermodel?”  
“An. Yes.” Greg said. His eyes glazed over for a moment as he remembered the way she looked wearing his tee shirt while making tea that morning in his kitchen. He shook his head and saw Donovan staring. He smiled and shrugged.  
“Damn it. You’ve got it too.” Donovan said.  
“What?”  
“You’ve got that look. I hope that she doesn’t get in your way with work.” Greg smirked a bit.  
“You could have used that advice yourself.” Greg jabbed at her. Donovan pretended to be upset.  
“Yeah, well…. Anderson was …. Not my best moment.” She admitted. “But he was a distraction …a beacon to look towards when the work got too much.”  
They walked back towards their office when Greg felt something off. It was something out of the corner of his eye. Something that he couldn’t quite place. An idea that was fuzzy in the back of his head. Then suddenly it became clear. He stopped dead in his tracks.  
“Shite.” He said. Sally looked at him. “I forgot. I’ll catch up later.” He said taking off at a run and pulling his phone out.

*********************************************

Mycroft had an official office for the government, a personal office at his home and a working office in his club. He was seated behind the desk in his official office, doing what he did for the British Government. His phone rang. He saw it was Lestrade. He answered it immediately.  
“Meet me at Baker Street. Now.” Lestrade spat out.  
“Why? What has happened?”  
“Not secure. Tell you there. There are bloodhounds.” More code, Mycroft knew he had stumbled upon something. “Bring An.” Anthea was seated on the settee and Mycroft’s eyes met hers. She knew from his subtitle cues that they needed to go.  
“Twenty minutes.” Mycroft said and ended the call. “Lestrade is onto something. We need to pay my brother a visit.” Anthea nodded and began rescheduling appointments from her phone.  
***********************************  
Lestrade banged his way up the stairs to Baker Street ten minutes after he hung up with Mycroft. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the sitting room, thinking Lestrade had a case for him, but he was concerned as there were no lights accompanying him.  
“Greg?” John said from the kitchen. He was working on the dishes and he was drying his hands on a towel.  
Lestrade leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Mycroft is on his way.” Sherlock nodded and sat down in his chair, his fingers joined with the palms together and in front of his lips. John went back into the kitchen and began to fuss over the kettle. Mycroft took the stairs slower than his normal pace and nearly fell into John’s chair when he arrived in the sitting room.  
“John, do you have anything…” Mycroft didn’t finish he query. John handed him two small white tablets and a glass of water. He knew that Mycroft was already over doing it on his recently repaired knee, but he was an obstinate Holmes. “Thank you.”  
“So, Lestrade, out with it.” Sherlock said, his patience thin. Anthea had settled into the sofa and she was working her phone. She gave Greg a small half of a smile and he winked at her.  
“I was having coffee with Donovan. She’s the one who really set it up for me. We have been looking at the data on the sim card as a code. But what if it’s not a code? Well, at least, not the type of code we think. What if it’s a distraction? Something to keep us busy, to keep tabs on us and keep us from seeing the real game?” Mycroft tilted his head and John sat at the edge of the desk, his mind twirling. An looked up at Greg.  
“A computer code. Similar to the viral tracker we put on King’s drive. Something to trick us. But able to hack or infect our….” Her face blanched. She made a rapid call, instructing the breakers to cease and desist.  
“Holy mother of god.” Mycroft said. Greg nodded. Sherlock jumped to his feet.  
“He’s trying to hack the government.” He announced. “He got our phones. He said he was going to tear us all apart.”  
“This will need serious damage control.” Mycroft said. An’s fingers were flying on her phone.  
“All ready managing.” Anthea said with her usual efficiency. She stood up. “May I use the lap top?” she asked. John waved his hand at his that was sitting at the desk. She walked towards it, leaving a passionate kiss on Greg’s lips as she passed.  
“Bloody brilliant.” John said.

****************************************  
Harry awoke to voices in the sitting room. She hadn’t intended on falling asleep. She held her phone and reread her conversation with Mycroft from earlier that day.  
“Thank you for the flowers. –HW”  
“You are welcome. I am sorry.-MH”  
“We will discuss it later. I am still angry.-HW”  
“I know. Dinner?-MH”  
“Yes. Pick me up at Baker Street.-HW”  
“I love you.-MH”  
“Yes.”  
“…-MH”  
“I love you too. I just don’t like you very much right now.-HW”  
“I would expect nothing less.-MH”  
Harry realized that there were others in the flat. She opened her door and saw Lestrade standing in the middle of the room. Anthea was working at the computer, but she felt Mycroft there. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to see him yet. John cleared his throat and she felt Mycroft’s gaze upon her as she stood in the door frame. His eyes met hers and his face was sad. Wounded and agonizing. She would hold out a bit longer. She wanted him to stew in his words for a while. She came into the room and sat on the sofa.   
“Did something happen?” she asked, looking at her brother, but watching Mycroft’s mask slip into place out of the corner of her eye.  
“Greg figured out that Moran was trying to hack the government.” Sherlock said, simplifying what had happened. Harry nodded her head.   
“We had that happen once when I was still working for the pharmaceutical company. The competitor sent out a free DVD or something that we were watching to try and steal ideas on their new product line. But it turned out they were using it to gather reverse data. It would only work on a computer. It could read your internet history, the sites you visited, things like that. It was a pretty picture story that hid a vulture.” Sherlock looked at Harry.  
“Twice.” Mycroft’s brow knit and Sherlock waved his hand. Harry and John understood. They both smiled. “Anthea, have the IT people check out going bits. They may see a surge since we started working this code.”  
“They have. And fortunately, the cryptology department uses a different server than the rest. There is nothing more to gain than code breaking software. Even after a code is created or broken, it is moved, physically to another server. There is nothing to steal.” Mycroft let out a breath he did not know he was holding.  
“That is good.” He said. Harry got up and went to the kitchen. John noticed and joined her.

*********************************************  
“You need to forgive him, even a little.” He said. Harry nodded.  
“I will. I think I over reacted.”  
“Welcome to the club.” He teased. “But trust me, as confident as they both seem, they are deeply insecure. Don’t stay angry for too long.” Harry nodded.  
“Just a bit longer. He needs to feel the impact.” John smiled.  
“Spoken like a true Watson.” Harry laughed.


	10. Bloodhounds on the Trail

Chapter 10- Bloodhounds on the Trail

Mycroft’s surgery went well and a mere four days after John made the initial phone call, Mycroft walked out of the hospital. The knee was going to heal well and Mycroft was much happier for it. He went back his home and climbed the stairs, slowly, but he climbed them none the less.  
Two days later, Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mycroft dress for work. He straighten his tie and caught Harry watching him in the mirror. Her face was sad. He came to her, with a slight limp and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“What is wrong, darling?” he asked. She shook her head.  
“Nothing. I was just thinking how much I enjoyed having you here with me.”  
“You should consider going back to work yourself.” He said. He instantly regretted his choice of words.  
“I… well.” She got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Mycroft hung his head and took a deep breath. He got up gingerly and went to the door. He didn’t want to invade her space, but he wanted to try and fix it before he left.  
“Harry, I am sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was simply suggesting that you need to start to have a more normalized life. That going back to work would give you something to focus on.” Mycroft said through the wooden door.   
“I understand.” She said. He could tell she was upset.  
“Harry, I love you. There is no changing that. I want you in my life. I want to share everything with you. I am not asking you to leave or implying that you need to…” the door whipped open. Harry was dressed and she had rage in her eyes.  
“I said I understand.” She brushed past him and left the room. Mycroft sighed and finished readying for work.

*********************************************  
Harry rang the bell at Baker Street and Sherlock came to answer it in his dressing gown. It was almost nine and he was surprised to see Harry standing on his doorstep.  
“What did my brother do?” he asked. Harry made a noise that sounded suspiciously like “Arsehole” and she climbed the stairs. John was pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen and Harry took it when he finished. John looked at Sherlock when he came into the kitchen. Sherlock silently moved his mouth to say “Mycroft.” And John closed his eyes.  
“Good morning.” John said. Harry put her coffee down on the table and leveled her gaze at her brother.   
“Fuck good morning.” She said. Sherlock stifled a laugh and took his coffee into the sitting room to open his laptop and stay out of Harry’s wrath, but close enough to hear her.  
“What happened?” John asked.  
“Mycroft.” She spat.  
“What did he do?”  
“He told me that I should get a job.” John nodded.  
“And….”  
“He went back to work this morning. He told me that I should go back to work too. As if I have asked him for a dime. He spoke as if I was going to sit around all day and eat chocolates and lounge. Not contribute to anything. It was like he wanted me out of the house while he wasn’t there.” Harry ranted. Sherlock picked up his phone and sent a text.  
“Flowers. She’s here with us. Dinner tonight. You have not felt the whole of a Watson rage when you have hurt their hearts.-SH”  
“Anthea is arranging the flowers. I will have them sent there. I will make a reservation for dinner. –MH”  
“Not Anthea. She will see it as a personal affront. You made this mistake. You need to fix it.-SH”  
Harry continued to rant at John who was watching Sherlock text out of the corner of his eye. Harry seemed to be running out of steam and stopped talking to sip her coffee. John went into the sitting room to retrieve an ashtray. He leaned down to Sherlock.  
“He screwed this up. Make sure he fixes it, not Anthea.” John said.  
“Already did.” Sherlock smiled at John and John went back into the kitchen.  
“What did I do?-MH” Sherlock’s phone read. Sherlock chuckled.  
“From what I understand, and this is difficult for me to understand, but she thinks that you want her to return to work because you don’t want a trophy wife.-SH”  
“A wife. Yes. But an independent happy wife. With her own feelings of self worth.-MH”  
“You have a lot of making up to do tonight. I do not envy you.-SH”  
“Neither do I at the moment.-MH”

********************************************  
John went to answer the door an hour later. He and Harry had been sitting reading in the sitting room while Sherlock was working on his laptop. John staggered up the stairs with the large basket of flowers.  
“Harry, these. Are. For. You.” John said dropping it on the low table. Harry’s brow knit. She took the card and opened it. She recognized Mycroft’s hand.  
“I am sorry, my darling. I did not intend for my words to hurt you. I love you with all my heart and I will do anything for you. I will give you anything. I will give up anything for you. Please allow me to take you to dinner tonight to show you how sorry I am. Yours forever, Myc.” Harry read the card several times over and it burned in her brain and in her memory. John saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as he tried not to smile.  
Harry took her phone and went into the bedroom that she had been using to text. John walked over to Sherlock.  
“Beer.” He said. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “If we ever have a row, send me lager.” Sherlock smiled.  
“And what will you send me?”  
“Body parts.” Sherlock laughed. John bent down and kissed him on his lips.  
“I want to show you something.” Sherlock said. He handed John his phone with his recent conversation with Mycroft on the screen. John read it and stared at Sherlock.  
“Did your brother basically just tell you that he intends to marry my sister?” John asked. Sherlock didn’t say anything. “How fucked up will it be if they get married before us?”  
“Married.” Sherlock tried out the word on his tongue.  
“Well, not today.” John said. Sherlock looked at him as he left the room.

******************************************  
Greg Lestrade poured over the last two pages of the paperwork he had been working on for the last hour. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at any longer. He shut the file and decided that he needed to get a cup of coffee and a walk to clear his head.  
Anthea had started spending all her free time, which was limited, at his house. Greg kept the house in the divorce, as his wife decided to take the boys and move to the country. He saw the boys no less often than he did when he was working. But they were teenagers and were talking of spending the summer holiday with him in London.  
Greg’s brain was sleep deprived, but Anthea was beautiful and desirable. He felt like a boy again around her and it was starting to affect his work. Donovan caught him in the lobby, as she was going for coffee herself.  
“Mind some company?” she asked. He nodded his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What have you been working on with Watson and the freak?”  
“Nothing.” He said.   
“Greg, I know you. You have been distracted and spending a lot of time with them. You have to be working on something.” The walked side by side down the street. Spring was turning into summer and the May air was warm.  
“I’m seeing someone.” Greg admitted. “And I have been spending time with John and Sherlock. We are friends.” He took a moment to order his coffee and paid for Sally’s as well.  
“That girl from the crime scene.” Sally said. “The one who looks like a supermodel?”  
“An. Yes.” Greg said. His eyes glazed over for a moment as he remember the way she looked wearing his tee shirt while making tea that morning in his kitchen. He shook his head and saw Donovan staring. He smiled and shrugged.  
“Damn it. You’ve got it too.” Donovan said.  
“What?”  
“You’ve got that look. I hope that she doesn’t get in your way with work.” Greg smirked a bit.  
“You could have used that advice yourself.” Greg jabbed at her. Donovan pretended to be upset.  
“Yeah, well…. Anderson was …. Not my best moment.” She admitted. “But he was a distraction. A beacon to look towards when the work got too much.”  
They walked back towards their office when Greg felt something off. It was something out of the corner of his eye. Something that he couldn’t quite place. An idea that was fuzzy in the back of his head. Then suddenly it became clear. He stopped dead in his tracks.  
“Shite.” He said. Sally looked at him. “I forgot. I’ll catch up later.” He said taking off at a run and pulling his phone out.

*********************************************

Mycroft had an official office for the government, a personal office at his home and a working office in his club. He was seated behind the desk in his official office, doing what he did for the British Government. His phone rang. He saw it was Lestrade. He answered it immediately.  
“Meet me at Baker Street. Now.” Lestrade spat out.  
“Why? What has happened?”  
“Not secure. Tell you there. There are bloodhounds.” More code. Mycroft knew he had stumbled upon something. “Bring An.” Anthea was seated on the settee and Mycroft’s eyes met hers. She knew from his subtitle cues that they needed to go.  
“Twenty minutes.” Mycroft said and ended the call. “Lestrade is onto something. We need to pay my brother a visit.” Anthea nodded and began rescheduling appointments from her phone.  
***********************************  
Lestrade banged his way up the stairs to Baker Street ten minutes after he hung up with Mycroft. Sherlock was standing in the middle of the sitting room, thinking Lestrade had a case for him, but he was concerned as there was no lights accompanying him.  
“Greg?” John said from the kitchen. He was working on the dishes and he was drying his hands on a towel.  
Lestrade leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Mycroft is on his way.” Sherlock nodded and sat down in his chair, his fingers joined with the palms together and in front of his lips. John went back into the kitchen and began to fuss over the kettle. Mycroft took the stairs slower than his normal pace and nearly fell into John’s chair when he arrived in the sitting room.  
“John, do you have anything…” Mycroft didn’t finish he query. John handed him two small white tablets and a glass of water. He knew that Mycroft was already over doing it on his recently repaired knee, but he was an obstinate Holmes. “Thank you.”  
“So, Lestrade, out with it.” Sherlock said, his patience thin. Anthea had settled into the sofa and she was working her phone. She gave Greg a small half of a smile and he winked at her.  
“I was having coffee with Donovan. She’s the one who really set it up for me. We have been looking at the data on the sim card as a code. But what if it’s not a code. Well, not the type of code we think. What if it’s a distraction? Something to keep us busy, to keep tabs on us and keep us from seeing the real game?” Mycroft tilted his head and John sat at the edge of the desk, his mind twirling. An looked up at Greg.  
“A computer code. Similar to the viral tracker we put on King’s drive. Something to trick us. But able to hack or infect our….” Her face blanched. She made a rapid call, instructing the breakers to cease and desist.  
“Holy mother of god.” Mycroft said. Greg nodded. Sherlock jumped to his feet.  
“He’s trying to hack the government.” He announced. “He got our phones. He said he was going to tear us all apart.”  
“This will need serious damage control.” Mycroft said. An’s fingers were flying on her phone.  
“All ready managing.” Anthea said with her usual efficiency. She stood up. “May I use the lap top?” she asked. John waved his hand at his that was sitting at the desk. She walked towards it, leaving a passionate kiss on Greg’s lips as she passed.  
“Bloody brilliant.” John said.

****************************************  
Harry awoke to voices in the sitting room. She hadn’t intended on falling asleep. She held her phone and reread her conversation with Mycroft from earlier that day.  
“Thank you for the flowers. –HW”  
“You are welcome. I am sorry.-MH”  
“We will discuss it later. I am still angry.-HW”  
“I know. Dinner?-MH”  
“Yes. Pick me up at Baker Street.-HW”  
“I love you.-MH”  
“Yes.”  
“…-MH”  
“I love you too. I just don’t like you very much right now.-HW”  
“I would expect nothing less.-MH”  
Harry realized that there were others in the flat. She opened her door and saw Lestrade standing in the middle of the room. Anthea was working at the computer, but she felt Mycroft there. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to see him yet. John cleared his throat and she felt Mycroft’s gaze upon her as she stood in the door frame. His eyes met hers and his face was sad. Wounded and agonizing. She would hold out a bit longer. She wanted him to stew in his words for a while. She came into the room and sat on the sofa.   
“Did something happen?” she asked, looking at her brother, but watching Mycroft’s mask slip into place out of the corner of her eye.  
“Greg figured out that Moran was trying to hack the government.” Sherlock said, simplifying what had happened. Harry nodded her head.   
“We had that happen once when I was still working for the pharmaceutical company. The competitor sent out a free DVD or something that we were watching to try and steal ideas on their new product line. But it turned out they were using it to gather reverse data. It would only work on a computer. It could read your internet history, the sites you visited, things like that. It was a pretty picture story that hid a vulture.” Sherlock looked at Harry.  
“Twice.” Mycroft’s brow knit and Sherlock waved his hand. Harry and John understood. They both smiled. “Anthea, have the IT people check out going bits. They may see a surge since we started working this code.”  
“They have. And fortunately, the cryptology department uses a different server than the rest. There is nothing more to gain than code breaking software. Even after a code is created or broken, it is moved, physically to another server. There is nothing to steal.” Mycroft let out a breath he did not know he was holding.  
“That is good.” He said. Harry got up and went to the kitchen. John noticed and joined her.

*********************************************  
“You need to forgive him, even a little.” He said. Harry nodded.  
“I will. I think I over reacted.”  
“Welcome to the club.” He teased. “But trust me, as confident as they both seem, they are deeply insecure. Don’t stay angry for too long.” Harry nodded.  
“Just a bit longer. He needs to feel the impact.” John smiled.  
“Spoken like a true Watson.” Harry laughed.


	11. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has dinner. Or at least attempts to have dinner....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't be able to post this without mamf's help. Thank you.
> 
> And I'm so sorry for the last line. I really am. But it needed to be done. You will understand and there is something coming up soon that will I think make up for it..... promise.
> 
> But keep reading and keep commenting.

Chapter 11- Dinner

John shut the door to the flat three hours later. Lestrade, Mycroft, Harry, and Anthea worked on a plan. They were going to fill-in Molly and Rob the next evening at dinner, but for tonight they all were on their own. Sherlock was lying on the sofa. He had moved into his mind palace and was absorbed in his own head. John decided that he needed a shower to help relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. He stripped his clothes and stepped under the hot stream of water.   
Sherlock floated in his mind palace. It was hard to describe to someone who had never seen it, but it was a building in his mind. A place with rooms for each and everything that Sherlock felt was important. Cataloged and cross referenced, he could find anything with enough time. He was looking at the photographs his homeless network had sent him five days prior. He was sure it was Moran who had been watching him. The scar that Mycroft had described was present although not clear in the shadow of the cap he was wearing. He knew he had seen the face before, but he was unsure where. He had been searching on and off for days and was not finding it easily. He vaguely recognized John turning on the shower and he knew that John would let him be. He decided that he needed to search another room and his feet took him to where he needed to go. But he had stumbled across a door. It was labeled New York. He decided that his subconscious was telling something and he pushed the door open.  
That’s where he saw the face.

***********************************************

Harry could see the pain etched in Mycroft’s face. He had been walking on his new knee more than he should have been and the stairs were more manageable then they had been when he was using the brace, but it was still an issue for him. John had been giving hints about everyone leaving for twenty minutes before she went over to Anthea, shut the lap top, handed her the large bag she used as a purse, pulling her to her feet.  
“Greg, feed her. Take her to bed. Then sleep.” She instructed. Greg nodded sheepishly and Anthea took his hand. They left with a wave and went out the door. She walked over to Mycroft for the first time since he arrived. She had spoken to him when he spoke to her, but it was tense and she had stayed away from him physically all afternoon. She held out her hand and he took it. She pulled him to his feet and picked up his jacket. She pulled him from the room and down the stairs.  
The car was waiting at the curb and she climbed in, Mycroft following her.  
“Home, please.” She instructed the driver. Mycroft looked at her.  
“I want to take you to dinner.” He said. Harry shook her head.  
“We will, but not tonight. I will get us something to eat when we get home. But you are to go up to bed, take a pain tablet, climb between the sheets. I will come up in short order. We will talk. But you are in agony and you will not make things better by being an idiot.” She said curtly. Mycroft swallowed. This was side of Harry he had rarely seen. And it was both attractive and frightening.  
“Yes.” He said. She sighed and leaned against his side.   
“You are a complete and utter arsehole.” She said. “You are so maddening.”   
“Yes, I am.”  
“I am still, for all essential purposes upset. But, I can tell that you need to rest. You have been out of the hospital for a couple of days and you are already over-doing it.” Mycroft hesitated and nodded. She was right. And he needed to let her know that.  
“I am. You are too good for me.”  
“Yes I am.” She said. Her lips curved into a smile. Mycroft brought his arm up and put it around her, Harry snuggling into him under his shoulder.   
“I love you.” He said. He kissed the top of her head and she closed her eyes.  
“I love you too, you great big idjit.”

************************************************  
Greg had his car at Baker Street. He closed the door after Anthea crawled into the passenger seat. He stood for a second, a smile on his face. Here, he was taking a beautiful woman home, who not only enjoyed his company, but wanted to shag him all the same. It was so different than the reality he was used to. She worked as much if not more than him. She was independent and didn’t mind if he had to run out to a case in the middle of the night, which had happened twice in the two weeks since they had been together.  
Greg slid behind the wheel and started the car. “Where would you like to go to eat?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders, her fingers still for the first time in hours.  
“You know what I really want?” she asked. Greg turned to look at her. She had a mischievous grin on her face. “I want to go to the pub that you always go to after work. It want to be shown off. I want to kiss you and hang off of your every word in front of people you work with. And eat horrible food and chips. By god I want chips.” She moaned. Greg chuckled.  
“You really want that?” he asked. She nodded.  
“I want them all to see what an incredible man you are. And when you have had your fill of them ogling me, I want you to take me home and take me in your bed.” Greg made a low growl in his throat and she smiled.  
“I would love nothing better.” He said with a smirk and took off to the pub.  
***********************************************  
John stood in front of the kitchen table, the vast collection of take away menus spread out before him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to eat or if Sherlock was going to eat. He missed Mrs. Hudson’s cooking and Mary’s cooking. He sat down on the stool heavily and sighed, a vivid memory of Mary standing in their kitchen at their flat, cooking a roasted chicken and swatting John’s hand away as he tried to nip a bit of it while it was resting on the counter. He thought about that evening, they had only recently started living together and for the first time in almost two years, John felt something akin to normal. He was laughing and happy. Mary’s face was alight with the summer sun and her hair was a golden blonde halo around her head. He had taken her hand in his and pulled her close for a kiss. The chicken had been forgotten in a flurry of touches and caresses that ended them in bed, making lazy love. John remembered the evening, sitting on the sofa, eating cold chicken and cooing at each other. He felt so heady with love at that moment. Four months later, when he was ready to ask Mary to spend the rest of her live with him, it was all gone in a blink.  
John hadn’t heard Sherlock rise from the sofa or enter the kitchen. Sherlock leaned back against the counter, his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed at his chest. He watched John as John flitted in his own memories, lost to the present. Sherlock noted the small smile on his lips and the sadness in his eyes. Sherlock watched as the tears gathered at the corners of John’s eyes and threatened to spill over. He wondered what John was remembering or thinking about.  
“Can we change dinner to have everyone here tomorrow?” John asked, his eyes still on the menus.  
“We can do anything you would like, love.” Sherlock said. “Why, may I ask?”  
“I want to cook. To really cook.” John said. Sherlock nodded. He wasn’t going to press John. He knew when John was ready he would tell Sherlock.  
“I’ll let everyone know.” Sherlock said. “In the meantime, please pick something for dinner. I am hungry.” John smirked. He knew that Sherlock was only saying to placate him and he wasn’t going to let on. He knew that no matter how he got Sherlock to eat, he wasn’t going to fuss. He picked up a random menu and ordered.  
*******************************************  
Harry stood in front of the large refrigerator and chewed her lip at the choices. She was hungry but she wasn’t at the same time. She knew she needed to eat, but she was still upset at Mycroft. She finally pulled a few things out and put them on a tray without really seeing them. She walked up the stairs and found Mycroft pulling on his tee shirt to sleep in. He sat on the edge of the bed and Harry put the tray down next to him. Mycroft surveyed the items and raised an eyebrow.  
“Interesting choices.” He said. Harry turned from where she had been looking out the window at nothing.   
“Hmm?” she looked at what she had grabbed. Pate. Strawberries. Carrot sticks. Cream cheese. A lemon. She smirked. “Sorry.” Mycroft took the tray and carried it to the desk. “I’ll go fix it.”  
“No.” Mycroft said. His voice was deep and commanding. It was not a voice Harry had heard him use with her before. She was startled. “You will sit here and tell me why you are so angry with me and so distracted this evening.”  
Harry crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, challenging his authority. Standing in a blue tee shirt and sleep pants, Mycroft would look like any other middle aged man. Except for the fact he was Mycroft. He had his mask on and he was trying to look intimidating. However, Harry had not been on the side of Mycroft the British Government. She only knew Mycroft, the man she loved. Mycroft huffed and sat on the edge of the bed again.  
“My god, Harry. I have had the Prime Minster give me the codes of all of England’s security with less than half of the stare I just gave you. How are you immune to it?” he was genuinely concerned he was losing his edge.   
Harry sighed and tried to hide a smile. “I know you.” She said. “The real you.” She shrugged a bit and sat down next to him.  
“So, are you going to tell me what has you so upset?” he asked. Harry shrugged again. Mycroft sat still for a moment and let things settle. He let his mask fall and his face was filled with pain. Pain from his wounds and pain from whatever was bothering Harry. She saw the pain in his face and shifted off of the bed.  
“Lay down.” She said. Mycroft did as he was told.  
“Talk to me.” He said. Harry climbed up on the bed, but sat on the other side and her back was against the foot board.  
“This morning you told me I needed a job. Maybe I over reacted. But I was, I am, upset that you think that I need to do something.” She started. Mycroft nodded.  
“I am sorry for it.” He said. Her lips were tight, but she nodded.  
“I know. And so am I. But I feel like you are trying to right something that wasn’t wrong. Trying to put me in some kind of box that meets with what your image of a perfect life is. Two people. Living together. Working. Coming home for tea and weekends at the club.” Harry shook her head. “That’s not who I am. It wasn’t who I was when I got married. It was one of many, many reasons I got divorced.”  
“Harry, I have no box.” Mycroft said. Harry put her hand up and curled her legs up underneath her. She was coming into a defensive position.  
“You do, Myc. But that doesn’t matter right now. I have thought all day about why I reacted the way that I did. And I came to realize that I did because things were normalizing for you. And I thought that you wanted me to fit into your life and not build one with me.” Harry paused and Mycroft looked at her, his heart breaking. “I am not in a relationship with you because of your money. I don’t expect you to take care of me. I am not here because I need you in a codependent way. I love you. I fell in love with you over a million different things and every day I find more things that make me love you more. And this morning I saw you in a bit of a different light. I saw the Mycroft Holmes that runs the government. And I was afraid that you didn’t want…. me….” Her voice faltered a bit.   
“Harry.” He said. He moved down the bed as best that he could and he pulled her to his chest. Harry began to cry, her hot wet tears covering his shirt. “I love you. I want nothing more than you with me for as long as you want. I will give you everything you want and I will give up everything for you.” He leaned down and brought his hand to her chin. He lifted her face to his and kissed her lips, kissed her cheeks and wiped her eyes with his thumb. “I love you. What else can I say or do to convince you of this?” he asked.  
“Nothing.” She said. She kissed him back and he held her against him.  
******************************************  
Greg felt quite smug as he walked through the double doors of the Cock and Bull pub. It was only a few blocks from New Scotland Yard and was often the refuge for the off-duty officers who did not want to go home quite yet after their shift. He walked in and saw that the pub was packed with people. He held on to Anthea’s hand tighter and navigated her to a table. The barmaid saw them as they settled into the only empty table and came over to take their order.  
“Cheese burger, chips, and a lager.” Anthea ordered. For a woman he had only seen eating salad and pushing food around her plate, he wondered where she had come up with the choice. But it sounded good and he ordered the same. Anthea sent a text and turned her phone off. She slipped it into her pocket and grabbed Greg’s hand across the table.  
“So, what do you do here for fun?” she asked. Her business attitude was gone and Greg was amazed at the shift. He was used to seeing her relaxed and abandoned in bed, but even in the house, she was not as relaxed as she was now.  
“Who are you and what have you done with Anthea?” he asked with a smile.  
“Greg, this is me. This is the real me. That woman who shares your bed? That’s me. The woman who puts on a suit and works her ass off for Mycroft? That’s me too. But I am really a combination of both. Now come here and snog me.” She said. Greg got up and obliged her. He fisted his hands into her hair and inhaled the wonderful scent of her perfume. He pulled away and was more than a little hard.  
Donovan nudged Anderson as they sat at their table. He looked at her and she indicated the back table with her head.  
“What?” he asked.  
“Look, you wanker.” She said. Anderson looked again, and there was Lestrade and Anthea.  
“Who the hell is that?” Anderson asked, his voice full of awe. If nothing else, Anthea could turn a man to jelly from her looks alone.  
“I don’t know who she is. I do know that she knows Watson and the freak and for some reason is shagging the inspector. But there is something….” Sally said, her voice full of venom.  
“Do you think she’d talk to me?” Anderson asked, his tongue all but hanging out of his mouth. Donovan elbowed him in the gut and he turned to look at her. “What?” She shook her head.  
“Let’s go say hello.” Sally suggested. They picked up their drinks and made their way over to the table. Lestrade looked up as they were a few feet away. He turned his head to Anthea.  
“These two.” He said. “Do me a favor?” An nodded her head. “Lay it on a bit.” She smiled and excused herself to the loo.  
“Anderson. Donovan.” Lestrade said, motioning with his hand to the empty chairs. Greg moved so that Anthea would sit next to him when she came back.  
“Lestrade.” Donovan said coldly.  
“Greg.” Anderson said. He was trying to keep it friendly so that he could talk to Anthea on a personal level.  
“How was your afternoon?” Donovan asked. She still felt the sting of his leaving during their walk back from coffee.  
“It was productive.” Greg answered. “You actually reminded me that there was something I needed to take care of. So, thanks.” Donovan was stunned.  
“You’re welcome?” she said. Anthea came back from the ladies, her lipstick refreshed, her hair tussled and her blouse a bit more unbuttoned than before. Greg looked over his coworker’s heads and bit his bottom lip.  
“Hello darling. I hope I wasn’t too long.” She said, her voice like pure satin chocolate as she slid into her chair. She hitched her black skirt up a bit as she crossed her legs. She leaned into Greg and took a sip from her lager.  
“An, this is Phillip Anderson and Sally Donovan.” He said. “Guys, this is An.” Sally nodded curtly and Anderson nearly knocked over every beer on the table to shake her hand. Greg rolled his eyes. Their dinner arrived and Anthea took a big bite. Sally stared her down.  
“An, I was just thanking Sally for reminding me earlier of something I forgot. All about the meeting this afternoon.” Greg said. An put her food down and wiped her lips.  
“That was you?” she asked. Sally felt a little odd. Apparently she had done something she didn’t know she had done.  
“I guess. I don’t understand what I did.” Sally admitted. Anderson was sitting back, hanging on everything Anthea said and did.  
“You reminded Greg of a meeting. A very important meeting. It would not have gone well if he hadn’t shown up. The British Government does not like to be kept waiting.” She said. Greg smiled and pulled her in close for a hug.  
“You met how?” Donovan asked.  
“Through friends. But we have recently been working together.” Greg said.  
“And what is it you do?” Anderson asked, desperate for any information on her.  
“I am nothing more than a lowly civil servant.” She said. Greg laughed  
Both Greg and Anthea’s personal cell phone’s went off. Text message. They shared a worried look and took them out. Their eyes met in panic and fear. 

*******************************************  
Harry and Mycroft lay on his bed, intertwined with each other. He was drowsy with pain medication and trying to read some biography of some general. He had no idea what he had been reading, his brain was shutting down. Harry was reading an old copy of Wuthering Heights and felt Mycroft fading next to her. She put down her book and took his. She carefully closed it and moved it away. Mycroft smiled.  
“I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy.” He said. His words were slurred and he was fading. She smiled.  
“Go to sleep, darling. You need it.” He nodded and closed his eyes. Harry got up to turn out the lights when both their cell phones rang with a text. He found his blindly out of habit and Harry grabbed hers. They read the texts. Mycroft threw off the blanket and Harry gasped “My God.”

*******************************************  
Sherlock and John were settled into the couch, not talking, but watching something silly on the tellie. Sherlock had his head in John’s lap and John was absently running his fingers through the curls. They both felt the vibration of John’s phone and heard the ping of Sherlock’s. They looked at the screens.   
“Fuck.” John said standing suddenly.  
“Molly.” Sherlock said.


	12. Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short and I'm sorry.   
> Story keeps moving on!  
> Thanks for reading and commenting!

Chapter 12- Molly

Dr. Molly Hooper was indeed a medical doctor whose. Her specialty was forensics and pathology. She was, from outward appearances, a mousey woman who rarely spoke unless she was among friends. But she was intelligent, observant, and clever. She often kept her long brown hair tied back and favored jumpers and blouses that bordered on the dowdy. But she was loyal, and fiercely so. Jim Moriarty had her wrong. Unobtrusive was her nature, but she was loved by all who knew her.  
*****************************************  
Sherlock was on his phone, speaking rapidly with Mycroft while John was talking to Lestrade. Neither of them knew more than what was sent to all their phones. Sherlock was pulling on clothes, trying to dress with haste as John went down stairs to hail a cab.   
John hung up his phone and looked at the message once again.  
“Rob. Poppy fields. St. Barts- Molly”  
Sherlock climbed into the cab and John grabbed his hand. “What did Mycroft say?”  
“He knows nothing. He and Harry will meet us at the hospital.” Sherlock said, his voice tight. “Lestrade?”  
“Nothing either. He and An are on their way as well.”  
The ride to the hospital was blessedly short, and John got out of the cab and saw Lestrade on the pavement at a near run with Anthea keeping up as best she could while typing on her phone.  
“Sherlock, John” Lestrade said.  
“What do you know?” Sherlock directed his question at Anthea.   
“Nothing yet. Radio silence.” She said. They went into the hospital in search of Molly.

***********************************  
Harry sat in the back of the car with Mycroft. He had pulled on clothes that she had flung at him and he was dressed as well as Mycroft could be while he was high and in pain. But he had adrenaline running through his system, fighting the tidal wave of sleep.  
“Not good enough.” Mycroft snapped into his phone. He had been talking non- stop since the message came to him. “I want CCTV, I want witness reports. I want everything in my hands now.” It was growl and Harry found herself shiver. Mycroft hit the end button and leaned forward, his hands on his knees.  
“Anything? “ Sshe asked. Mycroft shook his head. Harry ran a hand over his back and rested it at his waist. Mycroft’s grip on his phone kept his knuckles white.   
“We can’t go in together.” Mycroft said as they approached the hospital. “We need to keep you safe.”  
“Yes we can.” Harry challenged. “I am the sister of your doctor. I am staying with you to help care for you while you recover.” Mycroft nodded. Harry put her hand on his as he was reaching to open the door. He paused and turned to her. She leaned in and kissed him. “I love you.” She said.  
“I love you.” He climbed out of the car. Harry waited a beat and followed him from behind. 

************************************************  
Greg skidded around the corner of the hospital corridor and saw her standing in the middle. She looked lost. Greg had known Molly for some time now and had come to consider her a friend. He came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. She turned at the touch and her face was a mess of emotions.  
“Greg.” She said. He led her to the family room and found her a seat. Anthea was working with the nurses and the doctors in the A&E to increase security. Molly sat numbly into the chair that Greg led her to.  
Sherlock and John came in through the door and Molly broke down at the sight of them. Sherlock rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. Her sobs shattered all of them. Lestrade grabbed John by the arm and pulled him out of the room.  
“I don’t know shite. Please find Anthea. Be a doctor. Find out what the hell is going on.” Lestrade barked. John nodded his head and went to find out more information. Lestrade turned around and found Molly sitting again and Sherlock holding her and, whispering in her ear. She nodded at something he said. Lestrade closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

*******************************************  
Mycroft and Harry came into the family room and Molly had stopped sobbing. Her face was wet with tears. Harry came to sit next to her and held her hand as the men talked. John came into the room, his face ashen, but reserved. Molly looked up at him.  
“Molly, love, I know this is hard, but can you talk us through what happened?” John asked. Molly nodded. The room got quiet and all eyes were on her.  
“Rob and I had gone to dinner, . Jjust nipped down to the pub. We were walking back to his flat, we were goingplanned to watch a movie and spend the rest of the evening at home.” She paused, dabbing at her nose with a tissue. “We were talking and I thought I heard something behind me. I thought it was an animal or something. But then I felt Rob fall. I felt him crumple to the ground. And the blood. There was so much blood….” Harry closed her eyes and John came to sit next to Molly.  
“The bullet entered his left shoulder, shot from behind. It missed the aorta by 3 millimeters. He’s in surgery now and as long as his vitals stay level, there is a good chance we will survive this.” Molly let out a breath.  
“He’s strong.” She whispered and John nodded. “Molly, can you tell us exactly where this happened? Sherlock and Greg can go and look at the spot. They can figure out who did this.” Molly nodded.  
She gave them the address and Sherlock stood up. He kissed Molly on the cheek. He kissed John on the lips and he and Greg were off to see the crime scene.  
Mycroft was sitting in conference with Anthea, both of them handling the situation as well as the British Government would handle any situation.  
“Harry, how about some tea?” John asked. Harry nodded. “You want to come along?” he asked Molly.  
She shook her head. “I’ll just stay here.” John nodded his head and he shot a look to Anthea. She nodded and John walked with his sister out of the room.  
******************************************  
“What aren’t you saying?” Harry asked when they were a safe distance from the rest of the group.  
John ran his hand over his face. “Even though the bullet missed the heart, there is a lot of damage. It’s going to be touch and go for the next few hours.” Harry let out a breath.  
“Fuck.” She said. John nodded. “What are his chances? Really, are we talking about him walking away from this or are we worried about walking Molly through a funeral?”  
“I don’t know yet. It’s really too early to tell. If this is Moran, and I am positive it is, then he shot him well. Moran is a sniper. He shoots to kill. This is a message. Just enough to show that he is still in the game, but not enough to kill. He chose Rob because he’s in the game, but not a major player. He’s close enough to distract us from the main game, but that’s it, really.” Harry stopped in the hall and looked at her brother.  
“What the fuck is this guy’s issue?” she asked. John shrugged.  
“I stopped trying to figure that out years ago.” He said simply. John knew that if he tried to figure out the reasoning behind every criminal in the world he’s go mad. He sent out a silent prayer for Lestrade and Sherlock at the scene of the crime.

*************************************************  
Sherlock was quiet in the passenger seat of Lestrade’s car. He looked out the window and thought about the events of the night.  
“He wasn’t trailing me earlier.” Sherlock said out loud. “He was watching Rob.” Lestrade nodded.  
“It’s beginning to look that way.”  
“He wanted to send us a message.”  
“I think so too.”  
“I’m going to kill Moran.” Sherlock said, quietly.   
“Not if I get to him first.” Lestrade retorted. They arrived at the location of the shooting and there was yellow police tape showing off the scene. Lestrade flashed his badge and was let through. Sherlock stayed close on his heels, taking in the scene. Lestrade found the detective in charge and began a discussion.  
“Lestrade.” Sherlock said. He was staring at something above them. Lestrade looked in the same direction as Sherlock.  
“Sniper.” Lestrade said under his breath. Sherlock nodded. “Fuck.” Lestrade looked at the officer in charge who was more concerned about searching the ground around them. He was sure it was some punk kid or some homeless person who shot Rob in an attempted robbery. Lestrade pulled out his phone.  
“Sherlock, you know if we are right, we need to call in forensics.” Sherlock pursed his lips. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you, but we need to have the evidence done right. And you know despite all the shit, he’s the best.” Sherlock nodded and Lestrade made the call.  
It took Sherlock five minutes to find the location. He stood back, with his arms folded across his chest. Lestrade was standing a few feet away.  
“How long?” Sherlock asked.   
“Five more minutes.” Lestrade answered. Sherlock nodded.


	13. Unlikely Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Rob's Shooting

Chapter 13- Unlikely Bedfellows

Molly waited for news. Mycroft fought his medication and worked the CCTV and reports from his field agents. Anthea poured over various reports. John worried about Rob’s medical care. Harry sat. The doctor came into the room after three hours.  
“Dr. Hooper?” he asked. Molly got up. John came to stand next to her. “I’m Dr. Martin. Dr. Masters is a friend.” Molly nodded.   
“This is Dr. Watson. He’s a friend of mine.” John shook the doctor’s hand.  
“Well, then, let me tell you that it was a mess in there. It was an armor piercing bullet. Tore everything up. But he’s stable. We repaired what we could. This wasn’t a random shooting was it?” John gave a little smile.  
“Is anything random?” he asked. The doctor shook his head.  
“You can go to see him, but he is sleeping. I want to keep him sedated. We almost lost him twice in there. He needs rest. I would say no more than five minutes, then go get some sleep yourself. It’s late. We will call if anything changes.” Molly nodded. She held John’s hand. They followed the doctor out.   
Anthea got up and stretched. “Greg just texted me. There is news. He wants us all to go to meet at your house.” She said to Mycroft. “I’ll head over now and get some food out. And put the coffee on. I’ll see you soon.” She leaned down and put her hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. “We will get this bastard.” Mycroft nodded and watched her go.  
Harry was now alone with Mycroft. She went to his side.  
“You okay?” she asked. He shook his head. Harry pulled her lips into a thin line. “Then go home with Anthea. I’m sure you can catch her. Rest for a bit. I will collect Molly and follow directly.” Mycroft nodded. He got up from his chair, gave her a look, kissed her cheek and left. Harry sat down for a moment.  
“You okay?” a voice asked from the doorway. Molly. Harry shook her head.  
“I’m afraid this is harder on Mycroft than he is admitting.” Molly nodded and came across the room to sit next to her. “I am worried that he is going to blame himself for Rob.”  
“I am too. And part of me agrees with you. Not the logical part, mind you, but I am starting to wonder if just knowing Sherlock or Mycroft is hazardous to one’s health.” Molly sniggered a bit. “Who would have thought?”  
Harry giggled a bit. “It’s true. I haven’t really thought of it like that. Two men, and to look at them who would think they are dangerous. But here we are, caught in their fight.”  
“True. So, where did everyone go?” Molly asked.  
“Back to Mycroft’s. I’m to bring you with me. Greg said he has news and wants to share it with everyone at once.” Molly nodded.  
“Rob is stable and sleeping. I can’t be here any longer. I’m ready to go when you are.” Harry nodded and stood. They shared a hug, two women who barely knew each other, but were surviving this storm together.  
“I hope we can consider each other friends.” Harry said. “You look like you could use one.”  
“I do. And I need a friend.” Molly said. They linked arms and walked towards the lifts.

***********************************  
Sherlock paced along the edge of the building roof. Ever since the fall, his anxiety ratcheted up near heights. He wasn’t scared exactly, but he was nervous none the less. Lestrade was speaking to Anderson and Donovan, giving them directions to Mycroft’s house.  
“We need to go.” Sherlock said, his anxiety finally getting the better of him. Lestrade noted the edge to his voice and nodded.  
“We will see you in one hour.” Lestrade said. Sherlock swept off of the roof and headed straight for the car. “You okay?” Lestrade asked as he got behind the wheel.  
“Fine.” Sherlock bit out. Lestrade nodded and started the car. Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Lestrade waved his hand and Sherlock opened the window after lighting his cigarette. He was clearly stressed. His phone buzzed in his hand.  
“Sherlock. What’s wrong?-JW”  
“I’m upset. Roofs scare the shit out of me now.-SH”  
“LOL. Finally something scares the great Sherlock Holmes.- JW”  
“Don’t mock me.-SH”  
“Touchy. Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll see you soon.-JW”  
“Yes. Tell me.-SH”  
“I love you, you great git. X-JW”  
“Thank you.-SH” Sherlock finished his cigarette and put his phone away. He needed to feel John’s arms around him and re-center him. He needed security. It had been an overwhelming day of emotions.  
Lestrade pulled into Mycroft’s drive and John was waiting for Sherlock out front. Sherlock leaped out of the car and John held him the minute they were close enough to touch.  
“John.” Sherlock said. John held him and He put his face into the space at John’s neck. Lestrade met John’s eyes and went into the house.  
“It’s alright. I’m here.” John said, his hands rubbing Sherlock’s back.  
“I can’t… I was so… Fuck.” Sherlock said. John held him tighter.   
“Shhh. Love. It’s alright now.” John said. He pulled Sherlock into the house and found an empty chair in the front parlor. He sat him down and settled to his knees in front of him, pulling himself between Sherlock’s thighs.  
“John. I think I’m experiencing…. Something.” Sherlock was at a loss.  
“Panic attack. And for you I think it’s something new. Not on the scale of one of mine, but pretty darn impressive.” John said. Sherlock seemed to realize what was happening and fought to steady his breathing.  
“This sucks.” He said. John chuckled.  
“That it does, love. That it does.” John pulled Sherlock against him again and took deep breaths. Sherlock mimicked him and was better quickly. “So, my dear, no more roofs. Alright?”  
Sherlock smiled. “Not for a long time at least.”

*****************************************  
John was startled by the knock at the front door. He didn’t know that they were missing anyone. He also didn’t know that there was anyone expected.  
Sherlock stomped to the door and wrenched it open. Anderson and Donovan stood on the other side. Anderson’s mouth hung open in awe and Donovan even looked a bit impressed.  
“This is not at all what I imagined.” She said as Sherlock stepped back to let them through. John joined him in the hall.   
“It’s a bit pretentious, I’ll admit that. But it suits Mycroft.” John said. Donovan smiled and laughed a bit. John led them back to the kitchen were everyone was gathered. Mycroft was coming out of his study and stopped Sherlock.  
*****************************************  
“You okay?” he asked his little brother. Sherlock dropped all his airs, all his attitudes and all his masks. He let his brother see the man stripped away that stood in front of him.  
“Better now. But, honestly, not that good.” Mycroft nodded.  
“Neither am I.” Mycroft stepped back into his study and Sherlock joined him. They stood for a private moment, really looking at each other.  
“What has become of us?” Sherlock asked, his hands open at his sides. “The Holmes brothers have been reduced to this.”  
“Sentiment.” Mycroft retorted. “Love and caring. That’s what has happened.”  
“I never expected it.”  
“Neither did I.” Mycroft sighed. “But here we are. Both in love. Both of us.”  
“We aren’t going to start having family dinners and the like now are we?” Sherlock asked, a slight grin on his face.  
“Not if I have any say. But we are dating siblings. This could be complicated.” Mycroft said.  
“Could be?” Sherlock laughed, his booming laugh filling the room. “I think, brother mine, we passed complicated a long time ago. This is down-right….”  
“Fulfilling.” Mycroft finished. He looked at the floor for a moment before returning Sherlock’s gaze.  
“Yes.”  
They both stood for another moment and shifted their normal masks back into place, the honest, raw moment over.   
“I have seen Moran before.” Sherlock said, his hand on the door knob. “In New York. I just can’t remember when.”   
“Please do.” Mycroft instructed and walked past his brother and out into the kitchen.

*****************************************  
Mycroft had a dining table that would seat twenty. His kitchen table alone sat twelve. Tonight, everyone involved were seated around the kitchen table, coffee, various bits of fruit, vegetables, breads and other assorted nibbles spread around the room. Mycroft surveyed the room. This was his team, he thought to himself. The team that was going to capture Moran. Then he corrected himself; thiswas his family.  
Sherlock joined John at the counter and John tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a question. Sherlock shook his head and leaned down to kiss John.  
“Aww… God. Here too?” Anderson said. It was the first words he spoke since he arrived. Sally elbowed him hard. “Jesus, Donovan. I mean, I don’t care who is shagging who. But I don’t have to watch it.” Harry puffed up to her full height, which wasn’t much.  
“Oi! One more comment like that and you will find yourself out on your arse.” She said. John chuckled a bit. He came around the table and put a hand on Anderson’s shoulder.  
“Philip. Stop. Or trust in the fact, that not only will I let Sherlock beat the tar out of you, but Mycroft will ensure that you are ruined.” Mycroft sent him one of his beaming smiles, the ones terrified Sally.  
************************************************  
Lestrade cleared his throat. “Alright then, let’s get down to business.”  
Sherlock stood up straight. “Earlier this week Rob and I saw Moran watching us. I assumed it was me he was after. But tonight it seems that he wanted to send a message.” He took a breath. “Lestrade and I went to the scene and I saw that this didn’t happen from the ground. Moran is an excellent shot and he was a sniper. We climbed up and found the scene.”  
Donovan spoke. “Lestrade and Sherlock called us. We came as a favor. If there was any evidence, we wanted to collect it properly with a paper trail. We wanted to do this as cleanly as possible, especially after….” She let it hang in the air. “We found one single shell casing in the alleyway. I must have fallen out of a pocket or something. It’s being analyzed now.”  
“So, there may indeed be a case to properly try Moran?” Molly asked hopefully.  
“Maybe.” Sherlock interjected. “But I think he’s getting angry. That we have stalemated him at every turn.”  
The room was quiet. “Chess.” Harry mumbled at some point, lost in her own thoughts. John thought back to the flat that Mary had rented. He thought about the chess game that was on going.  
“Sherlock, do you remember the chess board in Mary’s flat?” Sherlock nodded. “Was that game of any importance?” Sherlock twisted his lips and his eyes got wide. He looked at his brother.  
“Study. Top shelf. Right of the fire place. Three, no four down.” Sherlock raced from the room. Mycroft thought for a moment himself and turned to Anthea.  
“Please get the board from the front parlor.” She nodded and went to get the chess set. “Moran asked me if I knew what the code was. How he communicated with his sister.”  
“And do you?” Harry asked.  
Sherlock came back in with the book, followed by Anthea. She placed the set in front of Mycroft. He and Sherlock put the pieces in the places where they were in the flat. Sherlock opened the book and flipped the pages for a moment. He smiled as he read through one and handed it to Mycroft who read it and shook his head. Sherlock took the book back and flipped again. He settled on another page and handed it to Mycroft.   
Mycroft read the page and stared at the board for a few minutes. A small smile grew on his face. Sherlock matched his smile. “Three.” He said to Harry. She giggled and John shook his head.  
“Why do I feel like I am being replaced by my sister?” he asked. Sherlock laughed and came around. He put his arms around John.  
“No one could replace you.” He cooed.   
“So?” Lestrade asked.  
“Mary and Sebastian were playing a game of chess. A rather famous one. I am sure that they did this over the years, each move assigned a number and a statistical average for the number of times this move can be made. This number must be the code, a meaning back to a reference point.”  
“London A-Z” John mumbled.   
“Exactly” Sherlock said. “But the new problem lies in what book, or movie, or location….” He stopped talking. John looked at Mycroft.  
“The books.” He said. “Fucking Wagner Cove.”  
“It wasn’t the actual location. It meant something else.” Mycroft said. “We had it wrong.”  
“Each place meant something.” John said. He sat down in a chair, heavily. Mycroft sent Anthea to collect the books and the locations that were listed. The rest of the party looked at them, confused. Sherlock took a moment to catch them up. John sat stunned.  
“Fucking bitch.” He said. The room went dead silent. John got up from his chair and left the room, slamming the front door on his way out.

********************************************************  
Sherlock waited a moment before following him. John was pacing around the front drive. It was dark and the sky was threatening rain. Sherlock stopped and watched John for a moment.  
“John.” He said. John stopped and looked at Sherlock. He was angry.  
“That fucking bitch. She knew that her brother was Moriarty’s right hand. She knew how much Moriarty affected me. She sought me out and played me. And then, when she was caught, she shot my best friend. She got herself pregnant and killed not only herself, but my child too. This is too much. I can’t ever be….” Sherlock nodded. John was screaming.  
“She was calculating, but John I do believe that she loved you.” Sherlock said. His voice was even and calm.  
“Fuck that. I don’t care if she had become a nun, Sherlock. She played me. I hate this feeling. And now my fucking brother-in-law is trying to take the rest of my world from me and I will not sit by and let it happen. Your fucking brother better fucking find him, and soon. I want nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.” John raged. Sherlock crossed the ground to where John was standing. A small amount of rain was beginning to fall. Sherlock took John into his arms.  
“He is tearing us apart.” Sherlock said. “He’s doing things to frighten us. He’s threatening us. And I swear we will find him and kill him.” John nodded, his anger dying a bit.  
“I can’t go back in there yet.” John said. Sherlock nodded. He understood. He took John by the hand and walked with him down a path that John didn’t know existed. There, in the murky night distance, John saw a body of water and a small house. Sherlock walked up to the house, opened the door and flicked on a light. It was a cottage, a small guest house of some kind.  
“Mycroft had this built on the lake. It’s really more of a pond here. But it drains into a larger lake. He used to row on it in the morning, but not so much any longer.” Sherlock flopped on the well-worn sofa and John joined him.  
“This seems more like you.” John said, noting the eclectic furnishings and odds and ends.  
“I stayed here before I moved to Baker Street. This is where I usually stay when I am here.” John nodded. He noted two doors off of the main room.  
“Bedroom on the right. Bath on the left.” John nodded. “I’ve never brought any one here before.”  
“Thank you.” John said. Sherlock was showing John another part of him and he felt better. They were in a private bubble that was Sherlock’s. John felt safer.  
John rubbed his hands over his face and Sherlock put his hand on John’s back.  
“We should go back.” John said.  
“No. We will. But not now.”   
“That’s some group in there.” John said.   
“We are family now. Family makes the strangest bedfellows.” John happened to agree. But they were a family. He took John’s hand and showed him the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. I hope you are enjoying it. Can't quite tell as the comments seemed to have stopped. ;( I look forward to each one.  
> Big shout out to my wonderful beta- mafm! You are doing great and thanks for putting up with all my crazy questions!


	14. Underwater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken codes...... John has a melt down. And a little Smaug for the hell of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When working out the codes I couldn't resist a bit of work. Especially cute Hobbits and sexy dragons. You'll see.
> 
> I think this will be the last post for a bit. I've got a lot to be reviewed with my fantastic Beta MAFM. And I need to work through a rough case of writers block. So, I'll post as I can. But I need to work on something else for a while and hope that the block comes apart naturally.   
> Thanks for sticking with me this far! I hopefully will be back to normal sometime in the very near future!
> 
> XXOO

Chapter 14- Underwater

Sherlock and John walked back into the kitchen. The mood was changed, it was late and everyone was tired. Mycroft was reading the chess books, trying to figure out the code. Harry was leaning on him, trying not to fall asleep. John cleared his throat.  
“I am sorry for my outburst earlier.” He stated. Everyone looked at him bleary eyed. “As a medical professional, I am telling everyone to go to bed. There is nothing more we can do tonight.” No one said a word and they all split up going to their rooms. Molly remained at the table.  
“I don’t know….” She said. Sherlock sat with her. He put his arm around her and let her settle into him a bit.  
“He’s strong. He’ll pull through.” He said. Molly nodded her head and John walked with Sherlock as he took her up to an empty room. He lay her down on the bed and pulled the duvet up over her. John pulled off her shoes and she settled into the pillows, finally allowing exhaustion to overcome her.  
Sherlock and John headed back to the boat house. The bed was still warm from their recent use of it and John pulled off his jeans and jumper, lying down on his side. Sherlock came in behind him and pulled him close.  
“Are you alright with me being here?” John asked.  
“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have brought you here in the first place.” John made some noise in his throat and drifted off to sleep. Sherlock held him close and kissed the back of his neck.

*********************************************  
Donovan and Anderson were on edge all night. They were not used to being part of this little group that had found themselves a family. They had shared a bed together before but it was awkward to say the least. They slept some and found themselves in the kitchen at a fairly early hour. Sherlock came into the room as they sat, staring at each other over coffee, not saying a word. Sherlock felt his lips curl up in a half smile as he smirked to himself. He grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.  
“I think the three of us need to clear the air if we are going to work together on this case.” Sherlock said. Donovan nodded, but Anderson stared at the table.  
“I have to admit, Sherlock, that you have been a different person since you and John….” Donovan began. “But I still think you are a freak.”  
“I agree on both accounts.” Sherlock said. “But, I hope that you and I can at least put aside our differences for this. I am the first to admit that I never expected my life to head in this direction.” He took a sip of his coffee and chose his words. “But there is one singular man out there, hunting my friends and family. I do not want to hurt the ones I love,” he swallowed, “again. But Lestrade is correct. We need your help. We need to make sure that anything we do is by the book, so to speak and that we do not have a repeat of last time.” Anderson looked at Sherlock for the first time.  
“I have always been impressed by you.” He said. His voice was small and full of awe. “I wish I could see the things you see. But I see the book. I see the rules. I only see what I was taught. I will try to help the best that I can.” Donovan spun to look at Anderson, her mouth hanging slightly agape.  
“Thank you…. Phillip. I will to try to keep the insults to a minimum.” Donovan shut her mouth and looked at Sherlock.  
“I think there is something in the coffee.” She said. Sherlock smiled.  
“No, Sally. I do not think so. As you said, I am a different man.” He shrugged and took his coffee off into the house.

************************************************  
Sherlock and Mycroft spent the rest of the day going over ideas, arguing from behind the closed door of the study. John looked up from the chair he was sitting in, in the kitchen when he thought he heard something hitting the door after being thrown. He looked at his sister and Molly.  
“How about we go to the hospital and check in on Rob.” He suggested. The girls nodded enthusiastically and ran to get their things. Anthea had gone to the office and the good people of New Scotland Yard had returned to work. John sat alone in the kitchen for a moment gathering his courage to enter the study.  
The doors in the house were thick oak, long ago stained a rich deep color. They were built for protections, privacy and ascetics. John stopped in front of the study door and adjusted his posture before he knocked. He didn’t wait to be invited in. He opened the door and found Mycroft sitting in the overstuffed arm chair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and Sherlock pacing at the other end of the room. He stopped when he saw John.  
“I am taking the girls to see Rob.” John said. “I suggest that the two of you stop for the day. Eat something. Rest. Do something else.” Mycroft looked up at John.  
“Fine.” He was not in the mood to talk and John was grateful. He wanted to get out of the house. John turned and crossed the room to Sherlock. Sherlock had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. John touched his arm.  
“Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. I will be home in a while. We will have a night in.” John watched Sherlock’s face. It softened at his gaze. John smiled a bit.  
“Bring Molly. She can stay in Harry’s room. She might not want to be alone.” Sherlock offered. John nodded.  
“I will ask. I will also pick up something for dinner.” Sherlock nodded and John reached up kiss him. Sherlock kissed his lips and smiled.  
“I love you.” Sherlock said. “Be careful.” He reached his hands around John’s waist and felt the gun at his back. John nodded.  
“I love you too.” He left the brothers to their tasks.  
******************************************  
Dr. Robert Masters was lying in his hospital bed. The doctors had started to reduce his sedation as his body was beginning to stabilize. He knew where he was and he knew that something had happened. But he had no memory of the event itself and he kept his suspicions to himself. His shoulder hurt and he wanted to sleep. He also wanted to see Molly.  
John opened the door to the room and Molly bounced in, seeing Rob somewhat awake. Rob’s face broke out into a smile and his eyes lost their worry.  
“Hello.” She said kissing him gently.  
“Hello yourself.” John cleared his throat and looked at Rob. “John. Harry.” Rob coughed a bit and Harry looked worried.  
“Hello Rob. How’s the throat?” he asked. He was playing doctor and Rob smiled.  
“Hurts, but not as much as my arm.” John nodded and motioned for Molly to help him drink a little. John explained to Rob what had happened to him and Harry was lost with the clinical speak. She sat back on the empty chair near the door. “Wow.” Rob said. “That sounds like a fucked up night.” John chuckled.  
“I know. It was. But, I can tell you, you will heal. And it won’t be easy. But you’ll get through it. At least you don’t have two holes.” Rob’s brow furrowed. Harry rolled her eyes.  
“Always bragging.” She said. John laughed. Molly shook her head and offered Rob more water.  
“I was shot. In the service. Same shoulder. Same type of round. But mine went through and through.” John pulled off his jumper and pulled up the sleeve of the tee shirt he was wearing. Rob looked at the scar.  
“Fuck.” He said.  
“Yup. That was my reaction too.” John said. Rob laughed a bit and started coughing. John looked please and Molly looked worried.  
“Coughing in moderate amounts is good. Clears the lungs. But I think Harry and I will go get a cuppa. Leave you two for a bit.” John said. Molly nodded. “Oh, and before I forget, Sherlock wanted me to ask you if you wanted to come and stay at Baker Street for a few nights.” Molly’s eyes glistened.  
“John, what the hell have you done?” Molly shook her head. “No, I mean that in a good way. Sherlock is so… different. Yes, I will come stay.” She said. Rob looked a bit relieved and Harry and John left them alone.

**************************************  
Sherlock walked up the 17 steps to the landing at 221B Baker Street. It felt good to be home. He sorted the post and went upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled off his clothes and went down for a shower. He stood under the hot stream of water and let the last week of tension flow out of him. Pulling on navy sleep pants and a white tee shirt, he exited the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. He thought he would make a cup of tea and sit for a while before John got home. He pulled on his dressing gown and put the kettle on to boil. He sighed as he leaned against the counter. He wanted to remember what books he saw at the flat belonging to Mary and wondered if there were duplicate copies of any at John’s flat. He needed to remember when he saw Moran in New York. He was tired. He hadn’t slept the night before, the sour taste of his panic attack still in his brain. He wasn’t often out of control and he didn’t like it when he was. He knew that there were two things that would calm his mind enough. And John would be upset if he went out to score.  
Sherlock settled into his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of himself. He dove into his mind palace and went to his New York room. He sorted through memories, pulling out ones from before he knew John and kept finding himself in the hotel with John. He thought about the walked through Central Park and the kisses they shared there. He thought about the ride in the lift and he found himself becoming aroused. Sherlock felt his hand slip between his waist band of his pants and palm his hard cock.  
Sherlock decided to abandon his New York room and went to the John section of the palace. A wing, full of memories of John. The way he looked first thing in the morning, his compact body straining as he came, the looks of soft love in his eyes. Sherlock rose quickly, deciding it was better to move to the bedroom if he was going to continue, as he wasn’t sure if Molly was going to walk in.  
Sherlock lay on John’s side of the bed, placed a bit of lube on his slender fingers, pulled his pants down a bit and began stroking himself again. His cock was hard and throbbing under his own touch and he thought of the way John’s mouth looked upon it. He rolled his thumb over the tip, feeling the sensation in his spine. He grabbed for the sheets with his other hand as he continued to glide his slicked fingers up and down himself. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and let out a little moan.  
John climbed the stairs to the flat and didn’t see Sherlock. He told Molly to make herself at home and went up to the bedroom to see if Sherlock had fallen asleep. He stood in the doorway and watched Sherlock stroke himself for a moment. Sherlock’s eyes were half closed and John crawled on the bed.  
“You need any help?” he asked, with a wicked smile. Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him in for a kiss, all teeth and tongues. He felt the last of his orgasm surge as John smiled into his mouth. Sherlock let out a gasp and John chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no.” he said. Sherlock looked at him.  
“I always need you.” He said. He kissed John and John laughed. He got up from the bed and threw him a towel. Sherlock cleaned himself up.  
“Molly’s downstairs. I got Mexican.” Sherlock nodded and pulled his pants up. “You know it’s hot to see you do that.” Sherlock winked at him and went down in search of food. John shook his head and followed.

*****************************************  
Molly settled into the sofa, with Sherlock sitting close to her. John was typing on his laptop, checking his email. Sherlock had turned on the television and Molly asked to watch some silly romantic movie. Sherlock obliged and only made tutting noises instead of his usual running commentary.  
John shut the laptop and yawned. Sherlock watched him and smiled. Molly yawned in response.   
“I think I’ll turn in.” she said. She kissed Sherlock on the cheek and got up. She kissed John and walked towards the guest room. “Thank you both.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Good night.” He said and Molly headed down the hall. John looked at Sherlock.  
“I think she appreciates how kind you have been to her.” John said. Sherlock shrugged.   
“It’s my pleasure.” John got up and turned out the lights.  
“Come to bed.” He said. Sherlock stood up and went with him upstairs. John pulled on his tee shirt and pants he slept in and crawled into their bed. Sherlock took off his gown and crawled in next to him. “I meant what I said before. It was really hot to see you taking care of yourself. I only hope it was me you were thinking of.”   
Sherlock smiled and brushed a bit of John’s hair off of his face. It was growing a bit without having had the time to get it cut. It was greying around the edges and Sherlock felt more in love with John at that moment than he had in some time. “Of course I was thinking of you. Who else would I think of?” Sherlock didn’t understand the joke in John’s statement.  
“No one. I hope. Otherwise, we need to have a conversation.” John smiled.  
“Who do you think of when you masturbate?” Sherlock asked.  
“Right now, you.”  
“Now?”  
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean…. Fuck Sherlock. I really don’t want to talk about who or what I think of when I get off.” John blushed a bit. “I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep.”  
“You are avoiding and deflecting.” Sherlock said. “But, fine. Sleep.” John let out a frustrated sigh and rolled onto his side. Sherlock lay on his back. “I’ve been thinking about you when I masturbate for years now.” He felt the bed shift and John was suddenly looming over him. He bent down and gave is lover a fierce kiss.  
“Shut it you dick. I’m tired. And I am not having sex with you while Molly is here.” Sherlock sniggered a bit and pulled John down. John settled into cuddling and putting his head on Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock stroked John’s hair and felt John finally fall asleep. He kissed the top of John’s head and felt that he could concentrate on the questions he needed to answer.

***********************************************  
Molly lay in the bed at Baker Street. She thought how surreal it was that she was lying in the room that she once knew was once Sherlock’s and about how much her feelings for him had changed. Once upon a time, she would have jumped at the opportunity to be in the room, in this bed with him. But he now had John and she had Rob. She rubbed her hand across her belly absently and thought about the small being growing inside her. She hadn’t told anyone but Rob. They were going to be parents. She thought she was hiding it well, but considered herself well hidden when Sherlock hadn’t said a word, nor had John. She had been able to wave off her bout of morning sickness that morning as nerves and exhaustion, but she wasn’t sure if she could do that again. She was sure that it was going to be an interesting morning with Sherlock and John.  
Molly turned on her side and closed her eyes. She thought about the questions Rob had asked her when they were alone earlier in the day. He had asked her to marry him. If they had been any place else, in any other circumstances, she would have said yes in a moment. But Molly was worried he was asking out of fear from what had just happened to him and out of some kind of misplaced duty for her being pregnant. She wanted to marry him, but she wanted to make sure it was something he wanted too.  
Molly sighed and drifted off to sleep.

********************************************  
Sherlock heard the bathroom taps turn on and he stared at the ceiling. He had been thinking for hours and his head was pounding with a headache. He needed something to take away the throb. He climbed out of bed and went down to the kitchen to get some water. Molly was standing at the sink, filling the kettle and holding onto the sink.  
“Molly?” he asked. She was pale and her fingers were white with effort.  
“I hope you don’t mind.” She said. Sherlock shook his head.  
“Are you alright?” she looked ill and he was instantly worried. He thought about calling for John.  
“I’m fine. It’ll pass in a moment.” The color was starting to come back to her face and her grip lessened. “See? All better.” Sherlock looked at her for a moment.  
“How did I not see?” he asked. She smiled.  
“Because I didn’t want you too.”  
“How long?”  
“Nine weeks.”  
“Congratulations.” Sherlock said. He smiled a genuine smile and Molly mirrored him.  
“Rob is the only other one who knows.” She said. “We don’t want to tell anyone quite yet.” Sherlock nodded.  
“I understand.” Molly moved to put the kettle on. Sherlock went to bathroom to find something for his headache and went to lie on the sofa. He was still chewing on the questions in his head. John got up and Molly fixed them breakfast as a thank you for allowing her to stay with them. She dressed and went to hospital to spend the day with Rob.

*************************************************  
Moran sat on a park bench and pulled his cap down low. At the moment he was feeling quite angry. Mycroft was not only healing, but he was walking. He had witnessed it at the hospital when they all showed up to be supportive for the pathologist. His long thought out plan was falling apart at the seams. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the black chess piece. He absently turned it over in his hand. He thought about the last message his sister had sent him and the message he had returned. The rare London sun shone through the clouds and he felt a warm breeze come across his face. There was one thing left to do. One last act that would destroy them all. One last person to move out of the way.  
He pulled out his phone and sent a text message.  
“I need to meet you.” He said.   
“Where and when?” the reply came moments later.  
“Thirty minutes. Regent’s park.”  
“Done.” Moran put his phone back into his pocket and shifted as he stood. He replaced the black king in his pocket and checked the gun at his back. He felt confident at his new plan and strolled to meet his associate.

********************************************  
Mycroft slammed the lid shut on his laptop, startling Anthea. She was sitting on the settee in the office, her normal place. She looked at him and he closed his eyes.  
“I’m sorry.” He said. “I feel so out of my depth.”  
“I know. I wish I had the answers for you.” She said. Their relationship had always been a constant battle of dualities. In public, she was his employee, walking behind him, almost subservient. But long hours working closely together had made them friends in a way. He valued her opinion and her insight. She relaxed around him and tended to be more comfortable behind closed doors. She kicked off her dangerously high heels and curled her legs up underneath her. Mycroft undid his waist coat and loosened his tie.  
“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” Mycroft asked.  
“Damned if I know.” She said. “Mycroft, Moran is a monster. He’s not the same man that you knew all those years ago.”   
“But he is. I think he still is.”  
“So, then, use that amazing brain of yours and figure out what he is doing. What does he want?”  
“I wish that I could.” His phone rang and he looked at it. He sighed and took an official call.  
Anthea continued to work on her laptop. She was trying to cross reference the list of locations with books, mentions in different publications. She had studied political science in university, but always had a love of books. But there were simply too many. She looked through the list of the books that had been retrieved from the flat that John and Mary shared. She knew that the answer had to be there. She looked at the list from the flat that Mary had and she saw the book. It was staring her right in the face. She jumped up from the settee and ran out of the room.  
She stopped the first person who worked for Mycroft.  
“Jim, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to go to the bookstore and get me a book. It’s important. This needs to be done three hours ago.” She said in a rush. The young man looked at the normally professional personal assistant and stared.  
“Of course. What book?” Anthea rattled off the title, pulled some money from her pocket and thrust it at him.  
“Go now. Do not stop and come right back here.” She said. He nodded and went off. She went back to the office. Mycroft was still on the phone and she sent out a text message to Sherlock.  
“I think I found the book. We will be at Baker Street directly.- A” Mycroft tilted his head at her and raised his eyebrows. She smiled and winked at him.

****************************************  
Sherlock was in the shower and John was sitting in his chair. Sherlock’s phone dinged with a text message. John, full of fear for his friends, got up to look at the message. His eyes grew wide and he smiled.  
Sherlock and John shared a bed, a room, a flat, and everything. But they tried to keep their bathroom activities private. There was an unspoken rule about needing a bit of privacy when they were spending so much time together. But John felt this could not wait. He burst through the door and Sherlock was standing under the shower, looking wet and delicious. John had to steady his breath as Sherlock looked up.  
“An sent a text. She thinks she found the book. She and Mycroft will be here soon.” John said, trying to control the excitement in his voice. Sherlock rinsed off and jumped out of the shower, planting a kiss on John’s lips.  
“Oi! Watch it!” John yelled, Sherlock shaking his errant curls like a dog. John laughed and Sherlock smiled. He pulled John into his arms. “If I wanted to get wet, I would have gotten into the shower, you arse.”  
“Maybe you should have.” Sherlock said with a wink. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. He walked around the flat in a towel for a few minutes, John watching for him to do something inappropriate.  
“Would you just go and put some clothes on.” John said, after he had enough of Sherlock walking around the flat half naked. He was sure that he was enjoying it a bit too much. Sherlock gave a mock pout and went up to dress.  
*********************************************  
Anthea flipped through the book on her lap. Mycroft had read it, of course. It was something that was plain and wouldn’t raise a question being in the house. It was genius.  
They arrived at Baker Street and Mycroft climbed out of the back of his car. He walked into the flat and up the stairs. John was sitting in his chair and Sherlock was playing his violin. Mycroft smirked as he thought it was more likely that Sherlock only picked it up when he saw Mycroft arrive. Mycroft sat down in Sherlock’s chair.  
“How’s the knee?” John asked. Mycroft pulled up his trouser leg for his doctor to examine. “Stitches should come out in a day or two.” Mycroft nodded. “How’s the pain?”  
“It comes and goes.” Mycroft said. Sherlock snorted and went to join Anthea on the sofa.  
“So, what did you find?” he asked. She handed him the book. Sherlock stared at the cover. “Brilliant.” He flipped through the pages and looked at various lines written on the pages. John strained a bit to look at what it was.  
“The Hobbit?” he asked. Sherlock nodded. “I read that as a kid.”  
“I think most people did.” Sherlock retorted. “Let’s see what we can find.”  
Mycroft pulled out the list of numbers from his file and they spent the afternoon looking through various phrases. They began to sort out a picture. They figured out that Mary had indeed originally been tasked by someone to protect John, but she had fallen in love with him. Her various notes to her brother showed this. John felt more and more uneasy as he saw the lines of communications that came across the computer screen as Anthea was typed them. He got up from the chair and went into the kitchen. He slammed things around as he made a pot of tea. Sherlock got up and watched him from the doorway. He walked over to John and put his hands on the other man’s.  
“John.” Sherlock said. His voice was calm and even. “We can do this later.”  
“No. We need to finish it.” John felt his breathing off and his mind clouding over. A panic attack was near and he didn’t relish it. He walked to the bathroom and opened his doctor bag. He pulled out a tablet and took it. Today, he was medicating for anxiety. Tomorrow he would deal with the emotions. He came back into the kitchen and found Sherlock finishing the tea preparations.  
“Ta.” John said. He leaned against the counter and watched Sherlock move around the kitchen. John took a breath. “I’m sorry. I just feel as if I am underwater most of the time.” Sherlock nodded.  
“I can understand that. Every day you are dealing with the grief and we keep stirring up what has settled. You learn something new daily.”  
“It’s the truth. I just want this all over.” John said. “I want the life we had before you jumped.”  
“But,” Sherlock started. John looked at him and he realized Sherlock’s face was broken. “Before…”  
“You daft git. Of course I want you, too.”  
“But we weren’t together before. Not that I don’t enjoy your company…” Sherlock looked at the sink.  
“Love, I think we have been destined for this for some time. I think we would have ended up together anyway.” John placed his hand on Sherlock. “I love you. I have for… well… since I moved in. And nothing is going to change that. I just would like to rid myself of those two years without you.”  
Sherlock chewed on his bottom lip. “I never intended…” John silenced him with a kiss.  
“Shut it. We are not doing this now.” He said. “When everything is settled, we will. But not now.” Sherlock nodded and they went back to the sitting room.  
“I think we have it.” Mycroft said. “The code about the chess piece.”  
“And….” John said waiting.  
“I kill where I wish and none dare resist.”


	15. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have news about what is happening....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Thank you all for waiting! I hope it was worth the wait.  
> Thank you to my wonderful wonderful beta MAFM! Your work is soooo good and it helps my bleary eyed writing to be something more special. I hope we will work together after the Challenges are done.
> 
> So.... here is the next installment. Several more to come! :)

Chapter 15- News

Moran walked along the edge of the park, watching. He was sure that Cameron was smarter than he looked, but the opponent in this game was Mycroft – the bloody British Government himsef- Holmes. Moran couldn’t be too careful. When he was satisfied that Cameron was alone, he approached him. They sat on a bench looking over the park.   
“I need to move up my timetable.” Moran said. Cameron shifted slightly, but didn’t speak. “I need to do this quickly; I cannot wait any longer.”  
“So, what am I to do?” Cameron asked, awaiting his orders.  
“I need John Watson. You can distract Sherlock and that bloody pain in the arse detective friend from Scotland Yard. Give them a good case. When they are absorbed in that, I will take care of the good doctor.” Moran said. He was cautious not to give away too much information, just enough to ensure Cameron’s cooperation.  
Cameron nodded. He was silent for a moment, considering. “Give me a week.”  
“A week! Are you mad?”  
“If you want something to distract the detectives, I need time. I need to plan. It needs to be perfect.” Cameron said, his voice measured and careful.  
“Four days.” Moran got up from the bench and walked away. Cameron sat a while longer and left through the opposite end of the park.

************************************************  
Cameron walked into the café. His instructions were easy. Buy a coffee. Sit down. Wait. He walked up to the counter and placed his order. He paid with the card that MI6 had given him and sat down to drink his brew. He didn’t have to wait long. A pretty blonde sat down at the table next to him.  
“Excuse me, do you have the time?” she asked.  
“No, I don’t. But there is a wonder store near Regent’s Park. They have wonderful watches.” Cameron replied. The simplicity of the code was almost the stuff of movies.  
“Regent’s Park?” she asked. He nodded.   
“There was one on Baker Street and I had seen this lovely watch near Scotland Yard. But I’m not sure of where.” She nodded.  
“Thank you.” She said. She wrote a number on a napkin and handed it to him. “I would love if you would call me. My name is Shirley.” Cameron smiled.  
“John.” Cameron replied, then shook her hand. She left and he stared at the number. There was no going back now.

***********************************************  
Mycroft looked over the report again. It was interesting. Cameron had indeed fulfilled his part of the arrangement, but he needed to speak to the man to get further details. He was hoping that Cameron would call soon. John walked into the study and Mycroft closed the file.  
“Time to take out the stitches.” John said. Mycroft nodded and moved so that John could work. John set into his task and Mycroft stared out the window. John worked quickly, asking Mycroft to bend and twist his knee in a few different ways.  
“It’s looking good. How does it feel?”  
“Better than it did before.” Mycroft admitted. “How long until I can run again?”  
“Run? A bit. But if you take it easy you can walk. Start off slowly.” Mycroft nodded. He was distracted. “What’s going on?” John asked, sitting back in a chair.  
Mycroft looked up. “Nothing.” He said. His mask slipped back into place. “Thank you, John.” John sat back and was quiet. He knew how to draw out information from a Holmes. Mycroft stood and looked at John, he then let out a breath and went to his desk and pulled a file. He handed it to John, who opened it and read the transcript.  
“So, he hasn’t called yet.” John said after a few minutes.  
“No.”  
“Do you think he will?”  
“I certainly hope so.” 

*******************************************  
John went back to Baker Street. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, looking through a book. John came in and flopped on the sofa next to him.   
“How is my brother?” Sherlock asked.  
“Fine.” John answered. They sat in silence for a while. John finally spoke. “He showed me a transcript. He has a spy in with Moran.”  
“Cameron.” Sherlock said.  
“You know?” Sherlock didn’t say a word. “Jesus, Sherlock. I thought that we were past this.”   
“Past what?” Sherlock asked.  
“Secrets. Keeping things from each other.”  
“I’m not keeping it from you. I just didn’t say.” Sherlock said.  
“You do realize that there is no difference there.” John said. His anger was beginning to rise.  
“No difference?” Sherlock asked. “What are you getting on about?”  
John stood up and walked towards the window. “What am I getting on about? I thought we were in a partnership here.”  
“We are.” Sherlock said.  
“Then start acting like it.”  
“How am I not?” Sherlock asked, his voice cracking a little. John was raging now.  
“Fuck, Sherlock. I am used to you not telling me things. You fucking died and Didn’t. Think. To. Tell. Me. You. Were. Alive. I fucking got married. I am a widower. My wife fucked me over. And I’ll be damned if you are going to do the same thing.”  
“I did it to keep you safe. Everything I do is to keep you safe.” Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice even. He was failing.  
“Keep me safe.” John spat. “I’m so tired of that being the answer to everything.” Sherlock stood, his arms loose at his sides.  
“What do you want from me?” he yelled. John jumped. He wasn’t used to Sherlock yelling at him.  
“I want you to talk to me. To tell me things. To stop hiding things from me. To stop….” John took a breath. “To stop trying to protect me. I don’t need protection.” John felt the tears flowing down his cheeks. He looked at Sherlock.   
“I … I’m sorry. I …” Sherlock looked broken. John spun, grabbed his keys and his jacket. He left the flat out the front door, slamming it behind him. Sherlock slumped to the floor, tears welling in his eyes..  
****************************************  
John walked along the street for some time. He had no real destination in mind. After a while, he ducked into a café and pulled out his phone. He checked the time and saw that there were no new messages of any kind. His anger had waned and he knew that he needed to go back to Baker Street. He grabbed a tea to go and hailed a cab.

******************************************  
John walked up the stairs to the flat. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it wasn’t Sherlock curled into a ball. However, John found him curled up on the floor. John hung up his jacket, put his keys on the table, and went to the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of cold water and drained it in one go. Sherlock rolled to his back.  
“John.” It was a whisper. John didn’t respond. He walked to his chair and sat down. Sherlock looked like hell and John felt as bad.  
“I am selfish.” Sherlock said, his voice hoarse from crying.  
“Yes, you are.” John said, his voice even and emotionless.  
“I know. I do things to protect you. I hide things from you. I love you so fucking much that I feel like I am going to explode and I do not want to live without you. That is why I don’t tell you things.”  
John considered this for a while. Sherlock continued to lay on the floor, his arms and legs spread as if he were splayed for all to see. He was looking vulnerable. John didn’t say anything. He stared into the middle space in front of him.  
“How can I fix this?” Sherlock asked. His voice was raw with emotion. John felt his heart sink.  
“I don’t know.” John answered honestly.  
“Is this something we can fix?” John didn’t answer. He got up, climbed the stairs to his room and slammed the door shut.


	16. pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after John went upstairs after the fight.   
> Lestrade shows up with news.

Chapter 16- Pillow Talk

Sherlock watched the colors of the evening fade into night on the ceiling above him. He heard John move around the room and settle on the bed. Sherlock didn’t move. He lay there for hours. It was the fullness in his bladder that finally made him move off the floor.   
Sherlock turned off the sink and turned to find John leaning against the wall outside the loo. His arms were crossed on his chest and he looked tired. Sherlock was sure that he hadn’t been sleeping either.  
“Go upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute.” John said. Sherlock met his eyes and nodded. John crossed into the bathroom and closed the door.   
Sherlock climbed the stairs and sat on the edge of the bed. He put his elbows on his knees and hung his head in his hands. He knew that he had screwed up and he hoped that John could find a way to forgive him, yet again. He was scared of losing John. He didn’t want to live a day without him ever again and he knew if John left, it would destroy him.  
John came upstairs and didn’t say a word. He lay down on his side of the bed and sighed. “Lay down.” John said. Sherlock turned his feet up onto the bed and lay down on his side. He lay there listening to John breathe and just feeling near to him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” John said.  
“I deserved it.”  
“Yes, you did. But I was still wrong.” John said. Sherlock felt him shift in the bed and felt a hand come up on his shoulder. “I don’t want this to end us.”  
“Neither do I.” It was a whispered prayer. John heard it and pulled Sherlock onto his back.  
“What can I? How do I?” Sherlock couldn’t finish the questions. There were no words left in him.  
“Shh…” John said. He pulled himself closer to Sherlock and rested his head on his shoulder. “I can’t talk anymore tonight. I don’t have the answers.”  
“For once, neither do I.” Sherlock admitted. He pulled his arm up and wrapped it around John. “I can tell you this. I love you.”  
“I love you, too.” John said. Sherlock shifted so that he held John with both arms.   
John’s breathing steadied, and Sherlock held him as he fell asleep. Sherlock thought about everything John had said to him and John was right. Sherlock was still playing the protector, trying to keep John safe. But it was John who kept Sherlock safe. Sherlock shifted and pulled John closer, breathing in his hair and his scent.  
John stirred in Sherlock’s tighter grip. He took a deeper breath. “I swear Sherlock, if you don’t loosen up some, I am going to suffocate.” John warned, his eyes closed and his voice heavy with sleep.  
“I’m sorry.” Sherlock said. He released his grip and John flopped back a bit.  
“What’s worrying you?” John asked. His eyes were still closed, but he knew Sherlock better than anyone. He knew what was going on in his mind.  
“You. Me. Everything.”  
“You and I will figure a way around this. We have had rows before.” John said. He was still half asleep but in a better humor.   
“Never like this.” Sherlock said. John rolled on his side and opened his eyes. In those fair blue irses, Sherlock saw the love that he had feared was gone, and felt his heart leap.  
“No. But we are under a large amount of stress. It’s no wonder this hadn’t happened earlier. I’m sorry I yelled.” John said, his fingertips stroking Sherlock’s face. Sherlock leaned into John’s touch, still unsure whether he would ever feel it again.  
“John.” Sherlock said. John closed his eyes and rolled to his other side so that Sherlock could hold him. John was sure Sherlock would be better after some sleep.  
John settled into sleep and Sherlock struggled for a while, finally allowing sleep to take him around day break.  
******************************************************  
John sat with his back against the footboard of the bed, sipping a cup of tea,watching Sherlock sleep. It’s peaceful to observe him so quiet and still, with a look of pure innocence on his face. John saw the slight flutter in his long lashes and smirked; Sherlock was only feigning sleep.  
“You are not good at playing asleep, darling.” John said. He knew that Sherlock hated when John called him darling, and was thus baiting him. But he wanted to talk and resolve some of their issues right away. They were expected for dinner at Mycroft’s that evening, and they generally never knew what might interrupt their lives.  
“Fuck you.” Sherlock said. He smiled a bit.  
“You too. You are such a dick.”  
“I know. I practice.” John laughed.  
“That I can easily imagine.”  
“At least you are speaking to me.” Sherlock said as he rolled and stretched. He sat up, saw John’s tea and crawled to the foot of the bed and took the cup. He swallowed half of it in one gulp.  
“Oi!” John said. “Make your own.”  
“Don’t want to leave you.” Sherlock said lazily. “How long have you been up?”   
“A few hours.”  
“What time is it?”  
“Nearly eleven.”  
“Oh.”  
“You needed to sleep.”  
“I guess I did.” Sherlock rubbed his hand over his face. “Is this the time to finish our discussion from last night?”  
“I think we have said what we needed to say.” John said, his voice taking on a sad tone.  
“I agree. But now, I want to try and fix it. And at some point we need to address where the anger came from, or we won’t resolve the issue.”  
“I know.” John said. He drained his cup and leaned into Sherlock. “However, I am afraid of where it will take us.”  
“We can’t live in a bubble.” Sherlock said.   
“Ground rules?”  
“No sex until we both feel it’s resolved.” Sherlock said.  
“Agreed. No mind palace.”  
“Fine.” Sherlock looked at John. “Maybe we should do this in the sitting room.”  
“Agreed.” They rose from the bed and Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist, pulling him against him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him close. John looked up and kissed Sherlock. Sherlock kissed him back.  
“I do love you.” Sherlock said.  
“And I you.”’  
They let go of each other and went downstairs.

*********************************************  
Sherlock used the bathroom and tea for them both. He wasn’t exactly stalling, but he wasn’t rushing into the conversation, either.  
“I feel like I am going back to therapy.” John said as Sherlock sat in his chair across from John.  
“Is that a bad thing?” Sherlock asked. John shook his head.  
“I’m just dealing with a lot of emotions. But I think after last night, you should go first.”  
Sherlock nodded and took a drink of his tea. “I… I’m sorry. I have not only fallen in love for the first time in my life, but I am also having a hard time dealing with a several other things.” John nodded. “I am afraid. I have not been this scared of anything in a long time. I have been sober for a while now. I do not even think about it anymore. But when I look back at what I have done, the decisions that I have made, I realize that even though at the time they seemed correct actions for the options in front of me, they were selfish.”  
“Yes, you are selfish.”  
“But so are you, John! You said you wanted things to go back the way they were. They cannot. This is our life. This is who I am. This is me, completely naked in front of you. For the first time, I have someone in my life that I worry about more than me. I hate it and I am exhilarated by it all at once.”  
“As am I.”  
“However, I have done things to hurt you. I died. I came back. I thought I was doing it to protect you. I just never thought that you loved me then even a little bit. If I had known, if you had said….” Sherlock paused.  
“Would you have jumped? If you had to make the choice again, right now, what would you do?” John asked.  
Sherlock closed his eyes. “I would rather die than to be without you, but I know that my end would be yours. At least I think it would.”  
“It would.” John confirmed.  
“I never knew how bad it was…”  
“It was horrible.”  
“For me as well. But I was wrong in not telling you everything. I was wrong in not telling you about Mycroft’s plan. I swear that will not happen again. I know you love me, you tell me so. But I don’t know if I have your trust.”  
John was stunned. Sherlock had deduced it all. He took in a sharp breath. “Fuck me.”  
“What?”  
“That was it. That was all of it. You can express to me what has me upset. But I’m not sure that you understand it. I’m never sure if you understand the emotional aspects of what your actions bring.”  
Sherlock put his fingers against his lips. “That is interesting.”  
“It’s how I see it.”  
“It’s very astute.” Somewhere downstairs a car door opened, then shut. John’s eyes went to the window. Sherlock’s eyes fell to the floor.  
“It looks like this conversation is done for now. But, please, allow me one last thought.” John nodded. “I want your trust as well as your love. I need that. Will you let me try?” John stood up and pulled Sherlock towards him.  
“I am not leaving.” John said. “We will figure this out.” He kissed him deeply as Lestrade moved into the sitting room.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock said.  
“Why do I feel like I have walked in on something important?” Greg asked. John smiled and rested his forehead against Sherlock’s.  
“I assume this is important.” John said. Sherlock was reserved and quiet.  
“Cameron made contact. I came to escort you both to the planning meeting.”  
“Give us ten to dress.” Sherlock said. Greg nodded and went to the kitchen.

*****************************************  
Sherlock pulled on his jacket and looked at John.  
“I….” he started. “I want you here with me forever. Marry me?”  
John’s heart stopped. He looked back at Sherlock. He was sincere.   
“Not today. Ask me again sometime. When we are less raw.”  
“Is that a no?” Sherlock asked.  
“It’s not a yes. But it’s not a no, exactly. Just a not now.” Sherlock nodded and pulled John into a hug.  
“Someday.” Sherlock promised.  
“Someday.” John agreed.


	17. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning what is going to happen with Moran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortie, I know. But I wanted to get it up as we are getting to the good stuff.   
> Thanks once and yet again to my wonderful beta MAFM Love you!  
> Thanks for reading and for the comments!  
> PS.... Writers block gone!

Chapter 17- Planning

Mycroft sat in his study, phone in his hand, rolling it in his palm. He had a brandy in his other hand. Harry was nearby, reading. She was grateful he was drinking brandy, as it was one thing she didn’t enjoy, and thus not much of a temptation. Mycroft was staring into the fire; it helped him focus and think. Harry looked at the large grandfather clock as it chimed out the hour. She got up from the chair and walked over to Mycroft. He smiled as she came near.  
“Myc, it’s late. Let’s go to bed.” She said, stretching out her hand for him. He nodded, putting his hand in hers.  
“I’m sorry I’m such rotten company.”  
“I understand. You are under a lot of pressure.” Harry said as she walked hand-in-hand with Mycroft.  
They had reached the first landing when the phone in his pocket rang. He took it out and looked at the number.  
“Hello?” he answered.  
“Mr. Holmes.”  
***********************************************  
Greg Lestrade was reclined in his sitting room, watching something on the tellie. He wasn’t really sure what, as he wasn’t paying attention. Anthea had gone back to her flat for the night and he was just sitting mindlessly.  
He took a long pull off of his beer and closed his eyes. It was nice to have nothing to do for an evening and he was going to take full advantage of it. As he was enjoying that thought, his mobile rang. He looked at the screen - Mycroft. He picked it up.  
“This had better be good. I am enjoying a beer and do not intend to go anywhere.” Lestrade said.  
“Anthea will be at your house in ten minutes. She will bring you to me. We need to talk.” Mycroft said.  
“And you expect me to jump every time you call?” Lestrade said.  
“No. However, my informant just called me. We have work to do.” Mycroft said. He hung up the phone before Greg could utter another word. Greg sighed and finished his beer in one go. He decided he had better take a quick shower and change. It was looking like it was going to be a long night.  
*****************************************  
Mycroft was sitting in his study, pouring over files and waiting for Lestrade. Harry had gone to bed and he went back to his study. There was a lot of planning to be done, and he needed to seriously talk to Lestrade before he brought anyone else into the loop. Lestrade was going to be the lynch pin in the whole plan.  
Mycroft heard Anthea’s footsteps in the hall and he closed the files in front of him. He wanted a few moments alone with Lestrade.  
“Anthea, would you please make us some coffee? This is going to take a while and I would like a word with the detective inspector.” Anthea nodded and disappeared down the hall. Lestrade walked into the room and flopped down on the settee.  
“This had better be good.” He sneered at Mycroft. Mycroft appeared unflappable.  
Mycroft stood and walked over towards where Greg was sitting. He sat as near him as possible.  
“Greg, I need to confide in you something that I have not told anyone, save Sherlock. I need your help. Without it, everything we have been trying desperately to cling to will tumble and fall.” Mycroft’s words were carried with an air of fear and gravity. Greg nodded. “Not even Anthea knows all the details.”  
“Then spill it.” Greg said.  
“I was not alone at the scene of the crime, for lack of better words. There was someone else there who I tried to talk toHe did speak. But he stayed in the shadows.”  
“I know. You told me.” Greg said. Mycroft nodded.  
“But I didn’t tell you at that time, was that I was baiting him. Years of practice in turning someone into an asset.”  
“What the fuck do you really do for the government?” Greg asked.  
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.” Mycroft said with a chuckle. “But, I digress. It was later that night, when I was by myself for a very short period of time that the man came to see me. I had him brought to a secure location and he talked, some. Sherlock went to see him. We were able to turn him into an asset.”  
“So, why are you telling me this?”  
“He contacted me this evening. He has been given his next assignment.”  
“Which is?”  
“To get you and Sherlock on a case, expose John and let Moran kill him.” Greg took in a sharp breath.  
“This really isn’t new news is it?”  
“No, it’s not. But the time table is.”  
“How long?”  
“Four days.”  
“Again, I’m not quite sure why you are telling me all this.” Greg said. He leaned forward in the chair.  
“We are going to construct the crime. We are going to expose John. And we will apprehend Moran.” Mycroft said, his face twisting into a wicked grin.  
“Fuck.”

*************************************************  
Sherlock knew the location of their rendezvous with Mycroft by the route the car was taking. He shook his head.  
“My brother and his cloak and dagger.” He muttered. Greg shook his head and smiled.  
“He tried to recruit me.” Greg said. John’s eyes widened.  
“I’m not surprised.” Sherlock drawled. “It’s only natural.”  
“How so?” Greg asked, waiting for the insult that was going to surely follow.  
“That Mycroft collects only the best. You are the best, therefore…” he splayed his hands in an open gesture. Greg seem taken aback.  
“I never expected that from you.” He said. John smiled and threaded his fingers through Sherlock’s.

*****************************************************

The building was squat, grey, and boring. But inside it was a hub of activity and state of the art equipment. Sherlock seemed to know his way around and walked quickly from hallway to hallway, past rooms of persons running from computer to computer talking in low frantic voices. Greg tried to take it all in, but it was too much. Sherlock’s pace seemed to be deliberate, not allowing Greg or John a moment to absorb anything. Greg caught sight of Anthea standing in the middle of a room with several people around her all trying for her attention. She locked eyes with Greg, then smiled and winked, never breaking her work. Greg jogged a bit to catch up to Sherlock who was throwing open a door.  
“Brother mine.” Mycroft said from his desk. Sherlock twisted his face and flopped into a chair. John stood behind him. “John.”  
“Mycroft.”  
“Well, shall we get to work?” Mycroft asked. John nodded once and Sherlock grinned.  
“I would like nothing better.”


	18. Bait and Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan and some angsty stuff.... and an announcement. A good one. I promise

Chapter 18- Bait and Switch

The plan was brilliant. Simple. Flawless. And yet, John felt sick to his stomach. Sherlock was so focused on his brother and Lestrade that he didn’t notice John slip out of the room.   
John slid down the wall and onto the cool floor. He brought his knees up to his chin and hid his face in the dark hollow that fell between his legs and his body. The bitter taste of panic was welling up in his mouth, and he was fighting to maintain control. And losing. He knew this was going to be bad. And he needed to get out. He needed to see the sky. To steady his breath. To fall apart alone. He got up and tried to retrace the path that Sherlock had led them in. He too had noticed Anthea when he walked in. He was searching for her now. She would get him out. Let him breath.  
A staffer came up to him and stood in his path.  
“May I help you?” he asked.  
“Anthea.” John was all able to say. The staffer nodded and John followed him dow the labyrinthine halls and into a room. Anthea was sitting at a desk. John stayed at the door, his hands in fists and his panic growing. The staffer spoke briefly to Anthea. She looked up and John let his mask slip for a moment, allowing her to see the pain and anguish in his face. She nodded and stood quickly. She came to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him.  
“Where?” she asked. He wasn’t sure what she meant. “A room, a bed, what do you need?”  
“Air.” She nodded and strode to a set of lifts. She inserted a key card and the lift doors opened. She swiped her card again and the lifts took them to a roof. John stumbled out of the box and into the cool night air. He took in deep breaths and collapsed to the ground. Anthea watched as John allowed the panic to overwhelm him. He vomited on the ground and Anthea listened as the lift descended. She had been texting since they got in the lift but John was too distracted to notice. She stepped back into the lift as the doors opened.   
John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fell backwards. He expected to feel the hard gravel of the roof on his backside, but was instead met by a pair of long arms wrapping around him. John pulled away from the arms and rose. He walked away, towards the edge.   
“I can’t do this.” John stuttered out. He fell to the ground again.  
“You don’t have to.” Greg said.  
“But I do, don’t I?” John sputtered. Greg had never seen John have a panic attack. He knew in the back of his mind that he suffered from them, as they had talked about it in vague references for years. But witnessing this was something new for him, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate it.  
“You don’t have to do anything” Greg assured him.  
“But it’s for the best.” John said. He was clawing at his arms, trying to rip the skin. His breathing was ragged. “Why are you here?” John asked, noticing for the first time it was Greg who came.  
“Sherlock is just downstairs. He’s a mess. His face….” Greg didn’t finish the thought.   
John had left the room and Sherlock’s watched him walk out the door. His face had fallen into a panicked state. His eyes searched his brother’s for an answer, and he knew that John was falling apart. He didn’t know what to do. It was the text from Anthea to Greg that changed everything. Greg pulled Sherlock by the arm as he ran to the lifts. Sherlock looked at the numbers climb and realized they were on the roof. Greg watched Sherlock slump to the floor.  
“Greg, I want to. I really do. I NEED to be there. But I can’t do it. I will be no help to him. I can’t go up there.” Greg nodded.  
John sat for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. “Help me, Greg. Get me down from here. Get me to him.” John whispered, his eyes closed. Greg put his arm around John and guided him back to the lift. John felt trapped in the small box, but Greg kept his arm around him.   
“You two are a fucking mess.” Greg said. John nodded and let out a little laugh.  
“You think?” Greg smirked. The doors opened and Sherlock looked up. John was in front of him and he couldn’t move.  
“Get your ass up. I am sending the two of you home. Whatever I interrupted earlier is obviously affecting you both. Go somewhere. Go someplace no one will look for you. Figure this shit out. Call me when it’s finished.” Greg ordered.  
Sherlock and John looked at him, both calming from their own panic as they understood the frustration and fear in Lestrade voice. John turned to him and pulled him into a fierce hug.  
“Thank you.” He said. He released Greg, and walked to Sherlock. Sherlock’s mask was gone. John only saw the raw love and fear in his face. John smiled.  
“Boat house.” Sherlock nodded and they walked, wounded, out of the bunker. Greg sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face.  
“That sucked.” He said. Anthea came around the corner where she had been watching Sherlock and pulled Greg into her arms.  
“That was nothing. You should have seen how many times I had to deal with Sherlock like that and high.” She planted a kiss on Greg’s lips.  
“High and anxious, no thank you.” Greg wandered with Anthea back to the office and they returned to plannning.

***************************************************  
The car ride back to Mycroft’s property was painful. Sherlock and John were both steadier on their feet, yet they were far from better. John felt spent and tired, but there was so much let to say, and no words were forthcoming. Sherlock climbed out of the back of the car and John followed. Neither had said a word since John mentioned the boat house. But it was a place that was entirely safe, comfortable and had no memories for John. It was someplace that he could feel entirely wrapped in Sherlock without yellow spray paint on the wall or watching over their shoulders. Sherlock pushed open the door and found that someone had come in and put a few things to eat, several bottle of water, wine, whiskey and other assorted things in the room. Anthea had heard John’s mention and took care to make sure they had what they needed. John cracked open a bottle of water and drank it down, washing away the stale taste of vomit in his mouth.  
Sherlock stood by the door, watching John. He wasn’t sure what to do next. “I’m sorry.” He started. “I wanted to come… but I couldn’t…” Sherlock tried, his voice cracking and failing him.  
“I know. Really, I know.” John looked at Sherlock. He moved close to him and grabbed his hand. “I’m not upset about that. Two of us in this state would be mad.”  
“One of is too many.” Sherlock agreed. John led them to the sofa and they sat down.  
“I guess we still have some things to work out.” John said after a while. He was cuddled into Sherlock’s side and Sherlock nodded.  
“I guess that we do.” Sherlock answered. “But I honestly don’t know what to say next.”  
“Neither do I.” John admitted. “I think we have both said it all. I don’t think there is much more we need to say.” Sherlock let out a breath and pulled John to him.  
“Do you honestly think this plan will work?” John asked.  
“I think it might. Moran is smart, but he’s not Moriarty. You heard Mycroft. The money is all but gone and in the morning it will be. This will happen fast. And as much as it pains me to put you in danger, this is the only option.”  
“The only option my wife left me.” John said. Sherlock nodded.  
“It seems so.”  
They were quiet for some time, each lost in their own thoughts.  
“I will agree to do this, if you and Mycroft meet a few demands.” John said. The whole plan hinged on John’s involvement.  
“Anything for you, my love.” Sherlock stated.  
“First, we move Rob, Molly, Harry, and Anthea. I want to know they are all together with Mycroft when this happens. I want to know that he is protecting every one of the people we love.” Sherlock pondered this.  
“I think we can do that.”  
“We need to stage the reason I do not go with you to the crime scene. We need a row. A big public onethat Moran will notice.”  
“Logical.” Sherlock turned to lay his head in John’s lap, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth. John let his hand fall into Sherlock’s hair.  
“But it’s going to be unpleasant. I’m so tired of fighting. I don’t want to fight with you.”  
“We fought long before we were us.” Sherlock offered.  
“Yes. But over the milk. Over fingers in the vegetable drawer. Over the amount of hot water you use.” John smiled. “Domestic things. I’m tired of fighting about all the fucking emotions I have rattling around my brain. I just want to rest.”  
“We will soon.”  
“And lastly, I want one night. Tonight. With you. No distractions. Nothing to bother us other than sleep. I want to make love to you. To hold you. To just be with you.” John had been looking out in to the room and he finally let his eyes rest on Sherlock’s multi-colored blue almond shaped eyes. They were wet with tears. “I love you more than you can ever know. And for one night I want nothing to come between us and our love.” John’s voice was aching with pain, with sorrow, and with fear. Sherlock didn’t trust his voice and he nodded. He swallowed.  
“I am in awe.” He finally whispered.  
“Awe?” John asked.  
“My brave John. My love. The man I literally cannot live without. I am awed and humbled by you.” John leaned down and kissed Sherlock.   
“My god, Sherlock. You have changed.” John said with a smirk.  
“Excuse me?” Sherlock asked, eyebrow raised. John traced the soft skin around it with his finger. He let it linger over the scar.   
“You are still a dickhead. A pompous, egocentric genius. But sometimes I half expect you to open your mouth and say something scathing and mean, but instead you open those beautiful lips and you say something beautiful. It’s not what I expect. You wouldn’t have said it five years ago.”  
Sherlock smirked. “True.” John laughed a little. “It’s your fault.” John twisted his lips a bit. “Listen to me. You are the reason I have changed. I never expected to have friends. A best friend. I never expected to fall in love. I always reasoned I would die alone, most likely after failing to see something critical and getting shot.” John chuckled. “But you changed all that.”  
“It was my pleasure.” John said. He kissed Sherlock and they snogged for some time before they moved to the bedroom and spend the night in bed.

********************************************  
John came out of the bedroom after a good night’s sleep. Sherlock had awoken a few hours earlier and was sitting in the late morning sun, reading the paper. John sat down across from him and scanned the front page.  
“Sherlock?” Sherlock made a noise. “What it today’s date?”  
“Thirteenth of June.” Sherlock said.  
“How many days until…”  
“Three.” Sherlock put down the paper and looked at John. “Why?”  
“Three days until my fall.” John said more to himself than to Sherlock. “I know what we are going to fight about, and where.” Sherlock looked at John and John smiled as he enjoyed a rare moment that he knew something that Sherlock didn’t. It was the look of surprise in Sherlock’s eyes that sent John into laughter.  
“Brilliant.” He exclaimed. He reached across the table and kissed John. “My fiancée. The genius.”  
“Wh….”  
“Just trying it on.” Sherlock said with a shrug as he sent out a text to his brother.  
“Okay.” John said, getting up to make himself a cup of tea.

****************************************  
Everyone they loved sat around the table. John had arranged for Rob to be released from the hospital and brought directly to Mycroft’s house. John and Sherlock sat close to one another, neither moving further than touching distance at any time. Harry noticed, and tilted her head at her brother. He waved his hand at her and refused to acknowledge it any further. There were plans to explain and parts to play. John cleared his throat.  
“I first want to thank you all. This has been a hard couple of months for me. And without the love of my family and friends I don’t know that I would have ever gotten through it.” He searched all the eyes in front of him. “There is still a part of me that will always grieve for Mary and Jane, but to be perfectly honest, I couldn’t ask for a better life than the one I have now.” Sherlock gave his thigh a squeeze under the table and John smiled.  
“But, we have a plan in place that will hopefully trap Moran and dispose of him forever.” Sherlock said.  
“And I need to ask you all for some help.” John said.  
John outlined the plan, in detail, adding in his requests. Everyone seemed uneasy with the plan, but they also saw no other option.  
“But in order to make this seem real, John and I have to have a row. A big one.” Sherlock said. “And John came up with a great idea.” Harry scoffed.  
“Most of you don’t know that I have been having a really rough go of it lately. Sherlock and I have been fighting for days. Really fighting. We said some things….” John stopped. He gave Sherlock a small smile. “Never mind. What matters is that between all of my fucked up issues and Sherlock’s being Sherlock, we came to realize that we have unresolved issues with the events of three years ago.” John sat quietly for a moment. He was genuinely curious who was going to figure it out first. He and Sherlock had a small bet about it. Sherlock was sure it was going to be Mycroft, but John had Molly in mind.   
Molly had one hand over her stomach and one on her mouth as she got up from the table and ran for the bathroom. John got up and ran after her. He knocked gently on the door as he heard her wretch.  
“Molly?” he asked. “Are you alright?”  
“I’m fine, John.” She said. She opened the door and let him in while she rinsed out her mouth.   
“I’m sorry if I said…” Molly smiled.  
“It was the reminder that made my stomach lurch, but it wasn’t what made me sick.” She said. She smiled a bit. “The doctor tells me only a few more weeks of this…” She saw the realization in John’s eyes and he pulled her into a hug.  
“Molly!” Molly nodded and he hugged her again.  
“Rob and Sherlock are the only ones who know. But I expect that I need to explain myself.” John nodded.   
“I’ll give you a minute.” John went back to the kitchen, a smile on his face that split it in two. There was finally something good happening in their world. He stopped and put his hand on Rob’s good shoulder and Rob smiled.  
“You know then.” He said. John nodded and he met Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock quickly avoided his gaze.   
“You, however are in trouble.” John said. Sherlock smirked.  
“I know better than to betray a friend.” John laughed and returned to his seat. He kissed Sherlock and settled into his arms again.  
“So, first, what is this little exchange, second is Molly alright, and third what the hell are you going to fight about?” Harry asked in rapidly.  
“I’m fine.” Molly said rejoining the group. “John was just let onto a little secret Rob and I have. And Sherlock figured it out recently.”  
“So… what is it?” Greg asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
“I’m pregnant.” Molly said, her face beaming. After a moment of shock, there were hearty congratulations and hugs. Harry held up a cigarette and motioned for John to follow her.  
“Are you okay with this?” she asked when they were outside. Sherlock stood at the door and John nodded. He came to join them and lit his own. He curled around John.  
“I am.” John said after a moment. “I really am. I wasn’t really ready to be a father. Maybe someday…”  
Harry looked at her little brother and to Sherlock. “You’d be amazing parents. A little scary, but amazing.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Really John?”  
“Another time. You have to make an honest man of me first.” John said.  
“I’ve asked and you keep saying no.” Sherlock laughed. Greg joined the group on the patio, and into the wonderful afternoon sun of a lovely June day.   
“Asked him what?” Greg asked. John stiffened a bit and Sherlock got the message.  
“Nothing you really want to hear at the moment.” Sherlock answered and John relaxed. Harry eyed them both and chewed her lip. She was going to let it rest.  
*************************************  
Harry eyed John as they sipped their drinks on the patio. “I still don’t understand what you are going to row about.” John nodded.  
“I guess we did get a bit sidetracked. It might be better this way. But the day that the plan is supposed to be happens to be the day Sherlock…” John stopped. He realized that everyone was listening. “The plan is supposed to happen on June 15th.”  
“The day Sherlock died.” Mycroft finished. “I don’t think that Moran picked it out of thin air. It means something to him too. It was the day that Moriarty died, too.” Sherlock nodded.  
“It’s not the easiest day to remember.” Sherlock said.  
“No, it’s not.” John agreed.  
********************************************  
John and Sherlock walked down the stairs from their flat. Things were about to get ugly. But they had spent the afternoon in bed and they were going to Angelo’s for dinner and have a fight. It was the beginning of the plan. Sherlock put his hand on the knob and looked at John.  
“I love you more than anything.” He said. John smiled.  
“I know. You have my heart. I love you.” They shared one last kiss and squared their shoulders. Sherlock opened the door and they headed out on to the pavement.  
John shoved his hands into his pockets and Sherlock clasped his behind his back. They walked near each other, but John walking slightly ahead. Neither of them said a word the entire walk to Angelo’s. They entered the bistro and sat at their normal table. They placed their order and tried to not look at each other as they sat in silence.  
Sherlock finally swept his eyes over John and John gave him the most imperceptible nod of the head.   
“Are you going to ever say another word to me?” Sherlock asked. John smirked.  
“Please pass the bread.” John said, trying not to put any emotion into his voice.  
“I was hoping for more.” Sherlock said. He crossed his legs and arms and glared at John. John shook his head. They ate in silence and when Angelo came over to talk to them, John was less than cordial.  
Sherlock decided to take offense to this.  
“John, Angelo asked you a question. A perfectly innocent question. And you have been rude. Angelo is a friend. And you are acting like an arse.” Sherlock got up from the table and after a nod to Angelo left the restaurant. John took a deep breath and followed. The bigger fight was supposed to happen in front of 221B Baker Street. They needed to move this along.  
“I have every right to be upset.” John said as he walked past Sherlock. He met his eyes for a moment and silently apologized for what was about to happen. Sherlock bit his lip in understanding. “If I wasn’t sleeping with you I would have walked out some time ago. I don’t know if I would have even come back in the first place.” John stalked back towards the flat. Sherlock followed.  
“I was better off on my own anyway.” Sherlock yelled as they turned the corner.  
“Fine! Go back to being on your own.” John whirled on Sherlock as they arrived back at Baker Street.  
“That’s not a bad idea.” Sherlock said.  
“Fine, go jump off another building. Or die again.” John said. He stormed up the steps and into the flat. Sherlock stood on the sidewalk for a moment and after a final look up at the flat, he left.

***************************************************  
John slumped inside the door. He ran his hand over his face and tried to stand. Mycroft’s men had swept the flat and made sure it wasn’t bugged or had hidden cameras. John was alone. He was upset at the things he had said to Sherlock, but he knew the plan was proceeding as expected. John picked himself up and climbed the stairs to the sitting room. He put down his keys and pulled out the burner phone he had hidden in the desk. He turned it on and sent a simple text.  
“143 x” John texted. As he was closing the phone, a text reply arrived. John read the text from Sherlock “1433x.” “I love you, too.” John smiled as he returned the phone to the drawer and slid it shut.


	19. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is set in motion..... Also BAMF Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are coming close to the end of my pre written, pre beta'd work. I have a lot more to say. So I hope you stay with me.  
> Thanks again to my beta- MAFM for your wonderful work.  
> Keep the comments coming!

Chapter 19- Alone

John fell asleep after taking one of the tablets that Molly had prescribed him months earlier. He knew that he needed to sleep, as it had been three days since he had and he hated the idea that he was without Sherlock. He was worried that he wasn’t safe; he was worried about Sherlock; he was worried about everyone.  
He went to see Rob and Mycroft daily, playing the doctor who wasn’t about to give up on his patients. He was sitting outside on the patio after seeing Rob, and Harry came to find him.  
“All right?” she asked. John shook his head.  
“I’m worried. This is it. Time is up.” John said. “I haven’t seen Sherlock in three days. I’m tired. I miss him.” Harry smiled.  
“Why don’t you go for a walk.” She suggested. “I hear there is a lovely path down by the lake.” John looked up at her and his eyes showed their understanding. He nodded.  
“A walk.” John rose from the seat and gave his sister a hug and a kiss. “I think Mycroft was right.”  
“Right about what?”  
“Right about us needing a push to grow closer.” He hugged her tight. “Be safe.” He whispered in her ear.  
“He’s waiting. You have about two hours before he’s supposed to be on the crime scene and you are supposed to be back at Baker Street.” John nodded and left his sister.

***************************************************  
Sherlock was standing on the small back porch off of the boat house that served as a dock. His back was to the path and John was sure that Sherlock heard him coming but didn’t turn around. John came to stand next to him.  
“You did well.” Sherlock said.  
“As did you.”  
“Do you suppose it was convincing enough?” John shrugged.   
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” John said. “We have a limited window. I just want to be with you.” Sherlock reached out and John folded himself into his embrace. “Have you slept?”  
“Not really. I didn’t anticipate how much I would miss having you in my bed.”  
“I haven’t slept by myself for this long in ages.” John said. He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t want to do it again.”  
Sherlock nuzzled the top of John’s head and John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. He settled his face against Sherlock’s chest and held onto him tight. Sherlock tightened his grip on John.  
“Sherlock.” John said. He tilted his lips up and Sherlock met them, with gentle kisses at first which grew in intensity, filling him with a need and a passion they had fallen into easily. John pulled away. “I don’t think I can.”   
“Why?”  
“I want to. I really do. But you are an amazing lover. I don’t think I could walk around pretending to angry with you. I’m not that good at acting.” Sherlock nodded into John’s hair.  
“I understand. I am slightly disappointed, but I understand.” Sherlock nuzzled John’s neck with his lips and John moaned. “What would you rather do with our time?”  
“Just be with you. Hold you. Feel you holding me.”  
“That sounds perfect.” Sherlock said. He walked with John into the sitting room and sat down with him on the sofa. John shifted so that Sherlock could move to his normal position with his head in John’s lap. John’s hands found his hair and combed out the curls. They sat in their own thoughts, just touching each other.  
“What would Mary have thought of us?” John asked after some time.  
“I think she would have been relieved.” Sherlock said. His eyes were fixed on John’s face as if they were trying to burn his image to his corneas.   
“Relieved?” John asked. “Why?”  
“I think she knew of our feeling for each other before we acted on them.” John nodded. Mary was clever and could pick up on anything if she wanted to.  
“I sometimes wonder where we would all be now if she hadn’t died. Or if Jane hadn’t died.”   
“I do also, and it upsets me. I think that you would have been in denial a lot longer. And you would have been raising Jane. I still think that you will make a great father.” Sherlock said.  
“Have you ever seen yourself as a parent?” John asked. Sherlock chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. John smiled and bent down for a chance to nip at it himself. They kissed for a while before John sat back.  
“In passing. But I never thought I would be in a relationship that would sustain long enough for children.” John nodded. “I told you that first night, most people tell me to piss off.”  
“But they don’t know the real you.” Sherlock smiled.  
“I have only been this with you. Because I love you.” Sherlock said. John smiled.  
“I love you too.”

******************************************************

John fell asleep with his hand on Sherlock’s chest and his head on his lap. Sherlock noted the time and decided that waking John was going to be harder than just leaving. But he couldn’t seem to leave. He got up from the sofa, walked to the door and with one last glance back at John, left. He pulled out his burner mobile and sent off a quick text. And he was gone.  
John stretched out his stiff neck and noticed that he was alone. He was sure that Sherlock left him sleeping and avoided the confrontation of his departure. John was angry with him, as he wanted the chance for one last kiss, one last embrace before going off into the unknown. But the anger was going to be useful. He got up from the sofa and returned to Baker Street.

****************************************************  
Moran stood in the late afternoon sun and observed the lone man approaching the door marked 221B. He blinked twice and adjusted his sights. He watched him open the door and walk through it. John glanced at his new phone once he was inside the door and could see the glare of the scope in the mirror in the front hall. He shut the door and stood on the other side for a moment. He decided that he needed to send the information to the right person.   
John pulled up his text app and sent a message to his sister. She would pass it onto Mycroft.  
“I think the roof might have a hole in it. –JW” He put his phone in his pocket and walked up to the sitting room. He decided that he needed a drink and went to the cupboard pulling down the scotch. He poured a glass and went to the desk, pretending to sort the mail while checking the disposable phone in the drawer. There was a message from Sherlock.  
“Sorry I didn’t wake you. I couldn’t say what I needed to. Too hard. I’ll see you soon. I love you. X”  
John smiled and quickly pretended he was reading a card that had come in the mail. He took his drink to his chair, picked up his book and read for a while before his phone pinged with a text from Harry.  
“I called a roofer. 1:00 appointment.” John nodded and put his phone away. Moran was confirmed across the way on the roof and was positioned at 1:00. He had a perfect sight line to John. John tired not to look out the window, instead pretending to read. He slowly feigned falling asleep, grateful that the window was recently fitted with a sheet of bullet proof glass on the inside. He would be safe. He let the book fall from his hand and that’s when the glass on the outside of the window shattered. John hit the floor and sent the text he had stored and ready to go. Moran had tried to kill him and failed. John crawled to the door and ran down the steps, his gun in his hand. He looked out the front door and flew across the street.

***************************  
Sherlock and Lestrade sat in the dark basement across the street from the flat. They wanted to be close in case Moran tired something. Greg was clutching his mobile in his hand. The screen flashed in the dark.  
“Got confirmation from Cameron. Moran should be making his move soon.- MH” Greg closed his phone and looked at Sherlock. They knew Moran was on the roof from the text that John had sent earlier to his sister. It was just a matter of time now.  
Sherlock stared into the dark, letting his ears pick up the sounds in the room- Greg’s breathing, his watch ticking, his own leg bouncing; the sounds in the building- the heating moaning, the water heater firing up, a window whistling low as it was open just a touch somewhere upstairs; and the sounds of the neighborhood- the cars going past, the people walking on the street.   
Sherlock shifted to a crouched position, worried that he would be wasting time sitting down. Greg looked at him and shook his head. Sherlock pursed his lips, but said nothing. But he suddenly went stock still. A noise had changed his attention. He patted Lestrade’s arm and started towards the door. He was feline in his movements and Lestrade tried to keep up. They marked the nosiest stairs on the way down. They avoided these stairs now and they climbed up to the third floor quickly. They were almost to the door of the roof when they heard the gun shot ring out.

***********************************  
Moran loved the row between Sherlock and John. He knew it truly wasn’t the end of their relationship. He knew it was a temporary separation, however, if they were apart and it would be even sweeter when John was dead and Sherlock’s last words were in anger. Guilt would eat him as fast as grief. It was beautiful.   
Moran was sitting on the roof of the house across the street from 221B Baker Street. He had arrived there early and had been watching. He knew that John had gone to Mycroft’s home, to help with his healing and to tend to that wimpy doctor. He must have decided to have lunch and visit with his sister. The weak sister who drinks. Moran had no patience for addicts.  
Moran saw the car pull up in front of the café and the compact doctor get out. He looked sad and tired. Perfect. His separation from Sherlock was working. He went into the flat and it was several minutes before he was seen in the window. Moran moved his scope and watched. Wait.  
John was alone. No one was coming. Moran was alone. It was a perfect time. Moran waited until he was asleep and as the book fell, he pulled the trigger, waited a beat and saw the doctor hit the floor. But there was something wrong.

****************************  
Moran watched as the bullet stopped. There was another layer on the inside of the glass. Most likely bullet proof. He cursed low, as he pulled his rifle apart and prepared to flee. His mind was a whirl of escape routes and places he could run to. He played his hand and Mycroft’s hand was better, as usual. He was done.  
He pulled open the door to the stairs, abandoning his gun on the roof on the bed behind him. Sherlock nearly broke his nose when he punched him in the face.  
“Fuck.” Moran shouted as he pulled his hands up to protect his face.


	20. Wait... What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Moran's capture and a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to wrap things up into neat bows. But then out of left field came something else.... Should be interesting to see where this goes....  
> Thanks as always to my beta MAFM. You are the greatest!
> 
> Thanks for riding along.

Chapter 20- Wait… what?

Lestrade was talking rapidly on his cell phone and Sherlock was almost running out of the house. He needed to get to John. John was crossing the street when Sherlock whipped the door open. John stopped in the middle of the street, his gun in his hand and saw Sherlock. Sherlock’s face broke into a large smile and they stood and looked at each other for a moment. John clicked on the safety and put his gun behind his back. He stopped on the curb and Sherlock climbed down the last few steps to John.  
“All right then?” John asked.  
“All right.” Sherlock said with a smile.   
“Moran?”  
“Lestrade has him upstairs. Mycroft’s men are here now. It’s done.” John nodded and held out his hand.  
“Home then?” Sherlock’s eyes shot across the street to the black door and he nodded. Sherlock took his hand and they walked across to their flat.  
**************************************  
Mycroft hung up his mobile and looked relieved. Moran was in the facility. Harry noticed that Mycroft seemed somewhat lighter and she smiled.  
“Good news?” she asked, coming across the room to sit on the edge of the desk in the study. Mycroft looked up and his eyes smiled at her.  
“Yes. Moran is in custody. I need to go to work shortly. But first….” Mycroft slid his hand up her leg and smiled.  
“Myc, we can wait. Go. I can see that you want to.” Mycroft sighed. He was torn.   
“What will you do while I am out?” he asked. Harry chewed on her lip and looked off.  
“I will take a long bath. I will put on one of your shirts and lay in bed reading. I will most likely fall asleep and when you get home…. I will welcome you home.” She said with a glint in her eye. Mycroft made a noise in the back of his throat sounded suspiciously like a growl.  
“Damn, woman. The things I let you get away with.” He stood up so that he was closer to eye level with her. He grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her in for a long kiss. Harry felt herself kissing him in return and she let his tongue slide into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his waist and opened her legs for him to stand between. Mycroft pulled her closer so that she was planted on his groin and only a small part of her was sitting on the desk.  
Mycroft pulled away after a moment and Harry settled back onto the desk.  
“Don’t be long.” She said with a wink and hopped down. She left the room with a look over her shoulder and Mycroft took three deep breaths to calm his heart rate and to try and reduce the rather strong erection in his pants. When he felt calmer, he slipped his mask back into place, pulled on his jacket and went to his office.

**************************************  
Sherlock was lying on the bed, his fingers tracing light loops over John’s back. Neither of them were in the mood to move after a rather demanding and passionate session in bed. They had barely gotten in the door of the house before they were pulling and pawing each other’s clothes off. There was a trail from the front door to the bed and neither of them felt the need to move to tidy it up yet.  
“John?” Sherlock asked.  
“Mmmm?” John answered. He was clearly not yet able to form coherent sentences and Sherlock was a bit worried that John had been injured by Moran and wasn’t telling. “Are you sure you are okay? You aren’t hurt?” Sherlock’s voice was a bit frantic and John turned his head.  
“Sherlock, for the thousandth time, I am fine. I am not hurt. I am currently well shagged, blissfully full of all kinds of good …. things….” John sighed.  
“Good things?” Sherlock asked, smirking.  
“My brain has switched off.” John said.  
“We should get up.” Sherlock said.  
“Nope.” John rolled and lay on his side. “We don’t need to go anywhere.”  
“But we do. We need to go to Mycroft’s.” Sherlock said. He ran his fingers down John’s face. “We have a trail of clothing to the bedroom. Mrs. Hudson will be home soon.”  
“I couldn’t care less. I do not want to get out of this bed. And you are staying here with me.” John said. He pouted.  
“Pouting isn’t you. It’s me.” Sherlock said. He leaned in and kissed the puffed lips, his own a bit sore from the frantic kisses that John planted on him earlier.  
“Fuck off.” John said with a laugh. Sherlock kissed him again and rolled out of the bed. He stood watching John for a moment then pulled on his dressing gown.  
“Shower.” He said. John waved his hand at Sherlock and settled back into the pillows. 

*********************************************

Mycroft walked into the same small room that Sherlock had visited earlier. He watched through the glass as Cameron stared back.  
“Has he said anything?” Mycroft asked. The guard shook his head.   
“He has said nothing more than when he asked to see you, Mr. Holmes.”  
“Good. Leave.” Mycroft crossed his arms and waited for the man to leave. He bent down and turned off the microphones, the cameras and other recording devices. When he was satisfied he went through the small door and into the holding room.  
“I appreciate your assistance.” Mycroft said. Cameron looked up. He looked tired.  
“I appreciate your money.” Cameron said with a bit of a laugh. “I promise that I will not darken your door again.” Mycroft nodded. He left the room and did not shut the door. He strolled down the hall to another room, exactly like the previous one. With one exception.  
Mycroft peered through the glass. Sebastian Moran was shackled at his wrists, his ankles and his waist. He was sitting stock still. Mycroft knew what he was doing. It was a habit from training. He was waiting for the pain to start. Mycroft nodded his head and he was left alone.  
Mycroft pulled off his jacket and hung it on the chair. He pulled off his waist coat and his tie and lay them on the counter. He undid the top two buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. After a bit of a stretch, he walked into the room.  
Moran looked at the door as Mycroft entered.  
“It’s about bloody time, Myc.” Moran sneered. Mycroft walked right up to him and delivered a right hook that sent him flying.  
**************************************************  
Rob walked across the threshold of his flat for the first time in weeks. He felt better, he was recovering and Molly was at his side. She scooted around him and appraised the room.  
“Are you sure about this?” she asked. Rob nodded and went to sit in a chair. He was better but weak.  
“Mol, you said you didn’t want to get married. We are having a child together. The least that can happen is that you move in here.” Rob said with an exasperated sigh. They had hashed it to death while staying at Mycroft’s. Molly wasn’t ready to get married. But Rob wanted her to move into his flat. It was larger and had a second room for a nursery.  
“Alright then.” She said. She put down her bag and went to make tea. Rob smiled.  
“I love you.” Rob called out. Molly smiled.   
“I love you, too. Now make yourself useful and take the bags into the bedroom.”  
Rob huffed, but got up and did as he was asked.

***************************************  
Greg sat at his desk. He was grateful that he was able to go and chase regular stupid murderers for a while. He twisted his pen between his fingers and looked over the current case on his desk top. It was boring and easy. He smiled as he looked at it thinking that he was jaded from being with Sherlock too much. It was an easy case and he closed the file top.   
Sally entered his office and plopped down in the chair.  
“All right then?” she asked.  
“What would you do if this was your position?” Greg asked, leaning back in his chair.  
“Why? Are you going somewhere?”  
“No… I don’t think so. It’s all just….” He took a breath. “Never mind.”  
“Greg, what’s going on?” she asked her voice filled with concern.  
“I’ve been offered another position.” He said. He kept the terms vague.  
“What kind of position? Something behind a desk?” Greg shook his head.  
“No. At least I hope not.” Greg stood up. “Really, forget I said anything.” He walked towards the door.  
“Okay.” Sally said. They walked out together to resume their fight on crime.

**********************************************

Mycroft waved his hand in a way that showed it hurt. Moran laughed. He moved so that he was sitting on the floor in relative comfort.  
“You think this is over?” Moran spat at Mycroft. There was a fair amount of blood coming down his face and his teeth were covered in it as he smiled at Mycroft.  
“Yes, Bas. I do.” Mycroft leaned against the table and crossed his arms and ankles.  
“I see the knee is healing.” Moran said.  
“Replaced. Better than it was before.”  
“Can you run again?” Mycroft shook his head and laughed.  
“We are not talking about me.” Mycroft said. “So, before I turn you over to the people who may or may not kill you, depending on my whim, is there anything else you want to tell me?” Moran smiled, his smile a show of defiance.  
“When was the last time you spoke to your brother?” Moran asked.  
“Sherlock? A few hours ago. Why?”  
“Not Sherlock.”

************************************

Sherlock was sitting on his chair, reading through the post with utter disdain. John was in the kitchen, pulling together something to eat. It was early morning and they had spent all their time together in bed since they had defeated Moran.   
“If I make this, are you actually going to eat it?” John called out from the kitchen. Sherlock laughed.  
“I am hungry. Shagging you for hours does work up an appetite.”  
“Good.” John said. He put his plate on the table and sat down. Sherlock walked into the kitchen, planted a kiss on John’s lips, and sat down. He picked up his fork and tucked into the rice and chicken that he prepared.  
“Tastes good.” Sherlock said. John smiled and sat down himself.  
“I can’t wait for Mrs. Hudson to get home. I need one of her chicken pies.” John said with almost a moan.  
“Yes. It will be convenient having her home.” John laughed.  
“Convenient.” Sherlock’s phone rang in his pocket and he extracted it. He looked at the screen and answered.  
“What now?” John put down his fork and looked at his partner. Sherlock’s face blanched and John tilted his head.  
“When?” John was listening more intently at Sherlock’s side of the conversation. He could feel the usual fire of adrenaline beginning to pulse through his veins. “Are you sure? Have you spoken to him?”  
Sherlock said yes a few more times, glanced at his watch and said yes one final time before he hung up the mobile. Sherlock placed his phone on the table and stared at it for a moment. He seemed to have gone off somewhere in his head.  
“Sherlock?” john asked. “Sherlock what’s wrong? Who was that?” Sherlock shook his head.  
“My brother.” He whispered. John stood up with a shock.  
“What?! What’s happened to Mycroft?” Sherlock shook his head.   
“That was Mycroft.”  
“So…. Wait. What are you saying?”  
“Sherrinford.”


	21. House Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet the other brother....

Chapter 21- House Guests

“Wait. There is another one?” John asked.  
“Yes. Sherrinford. Five years older than Mycroft. Half- brother really. From a relationship of my father’s.” Sherlock said as he got up to dress. John followed him up the stairs.  
“There are three of you.” John stated as he was pulling out his clothes. “Any other siblings no one has told me about?” Sherlock stopped and looked at John.  
“What?” Sherlock asked. John shook his head.  
“Nothing.” John pulled his shirt on. “Let’s go.” Sherlock stood and looked at him.  
“No.”  
“No?” John asked. “You just told me that you think your brother is in trouble. So, let’s go figure this out.”  
“No.”  
“Why the bloody hell not?”  
“You need to explain your comment.” Sherlock crossed his arms and stood in front of the door. John thought about it for a moment and came closer to Sherlock. He wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in close, to whisper in his ear.  
“No, you deduce it.” He said, pulling Sherlock off balance and walked out the door.  
Sherlock stood for a moment and watched John go down the stairs. He was bested by John, once again. Sherlock sighed and followed, trying to figure out what happened.

***************************************

Mycroft sat at his desk and Harry looked at him. She wasn’t sure what the problem was and she was getting nervous. She had seen Sherlock not speak for days, but never with Mycroft. It was almost like he was in love with the sound of his own voice.   
Mycroft had come home from the office an hour before and went straight to his study. Harry walked into the room ten minutes later to see if he was alright. After all he had made her an offer before he had left. She found him sitting in his chair at his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand, untouched. He hadn’t moved a muscle.   
“Mycroft?” she said, once more. “Myc, this is plain scary now. You haven’t said a word. What happened?” Mycroft didn’t respond. But his eyes flickered when the front door opened and shut. Sherlock and John came in a moment later. John looked at the two of them and Harry noted the anger in her brother’s face. But she wasn’t sure what Sherlock was hiding. She looked at her brother for an answer.  
“What happened?” she asked. John took a deep breath.  
“He hasn’t told you?”  
“He came home, walked in here and hasn’t even acknowledged me in almost an hour. What happened? I’m worried.” John ran his hand down her back and she chocked back a sob.  
“Sherlock?” John asked. “I think you should explain this.” Sherlock nodded. He looked at his brother and leaned in close to his ear. He whispered something, grabbed John by the arm and made Harry follow him out of the room.  
Sitting on the patio, Sherlock pulled out a fag. He lit it and sat down on the stair. Harry watched him expectantly and John slumped into the chair.  
“When my parents met, my father had a secret.” Sherlock started. “Four years earlier, he had a relationship with an American student who was working at his banking firm. She left him to return home, only to later share that she had a child and it was my father’s. My father supported the child and gave him his name. Howard Sherrinford Holmes. My mother knew about him, of course, and we did see him from time to time as children.” Sherlock paused and Harry looked at John.  
“There is another one?” she asked, her mouth agape.  
“Apparently. We don’t have any other siblings that you haven’t told me about, do we?” John asked with disgust in his voice.  
Harry shook her head. Sherlock shot John a look and shook his head. “Sherrinford went into banking like our father and from what Mycroft has told me, as he has kept an eye on him, he got involved with the CIA, working in banking.” Sherlock continued.  
“So, what happened today?” Harry asked.  
“Mycroft went to see Moran. He asked if we had spoken to Sherrinford. That was all. Mycroft can’t get in touch with him.”  
“So,” John started “You think Moran had something to do with the fact you can’t get in touch with him?”  
“John.” Sherlock said. John sighed and went into the house.  
Sherlock turned to Harry. “What did I say?”  
“I don’t know.” Harry looked at Sherlock and he let her see the pain in his face. “I’ll try to find out.” She place her hand on his shoulder as she passed and went to find her brother.

*************************************

Martha Holmes was busy in the kitchen. She was cooking up a storm. She didn’t know why, she just felt better cooking. But, it being only her and Ben, she often over cooked. She shrugged, figuring she could give it to the food pantry. They would appreciate it. There was a knock at the garden door and she turned. She couldn’t see who it was, so she opened the door and yelped, finding one person she never expected to be there.

*****************************************  
Sherlock, John, and Harry left the room and Mycroft raised his glass to his lips. He drained the bitter drink in one go and took a deep breath. Sherlock was right. He needed to pull himself together and get back to the task at hand, finding his brother.  
Mycroft stood and went to his desk. His mobile rang and he looked at the screen. His father. It was inevitable that he speak to him, so it was better to do it now than later.   
“Father.” Mycroft answered.  
“Mycroft, how soon can you and Sherlock come here?” Ben asked, his voice concerned.  
“Within the hour. What has happened? Is mother…?” Mycroft never finished the statement.  
“Mum is fine. Bring John. And his bag. It’s Sherrinford. He’s here.” Mycroft darted from the room and nearly ran into John. John stopped and looked at him. Mycroft mouthed ‘Sherlock’ and John turned to grab his lover. Harry stopped and Mycroft grabbed her around the waist and kissed her on the head.  
“We will be there.” Mycroft rang off. Sherlock appeared in the hall and waited.  
“He’s at Mum and Dad’s.” Mycroft said. Sherlock nodded. “Dad asked for John. I think something has happened.” Sherlock nodded again and looked at John.  
“I need to get my bag. It’s at the flat.” Mycroft shook his head.  
“I have one here. Better, most likely.” John nodded and they headed for the car.

******************************************  
Mycroft sat in the car, his hands on his phone, alternating between barking out orders and texting. John held hands with Sherlock who was a nervous mess of fidgeting flesh. Harry sat back near Mycroft, stroking his knee absently with her fingers.  
Mycroft put his phone away and sat back. He pulled Harry closer to him. “I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair.  
“Tell me later, when we are alone.” She said. Mycroft nodded. He put his head back and closed his eyes. Sherlock looked at his brother, almost staring.  
“For Christ’s sake. Just smoke.” Mycroft drawled, his head never moving. Sherlock launched near a window and light a cigarette. Harry moved nearer to John and leaned into to whisper.  
“What did he say to piss you off earlier?” Harry asked.  
“Not now.” John said. His voice was even and he would talk it out with her, but alone. She knew that tone. They had used it with each other many times over the years. Harry nodded.

**************************************

They pulled up to the lovely country cottage and piled out of the car. Ben came to meet them.  
“He’s in Sherlock’s room.” Ben said. “John, you need to help him. Martha hasn’t left his side. John went to make his way through the house. He grabbed his sister to help him. He knew that the boys needed a moment to talk.   
John found the room and took a long look at the man lying on the bed. Martha was hovering, trying to clean up his face. She looked up when John came in the room, carrying the large bag Mycroft had supplied him with.  
“John, Harry.” She said with relief in her voice. John nodded.  
“Martha, clean water, boiled preferred. Towels. Please.” Martha nodded and he set to work on his patient. Martha and Harry left the room.  
Sherrinford Holmes was tall, taller than Mycroft, John imagined. His hair was a salt and pepper grey over black and John wondered if Sherlock’s hair would look the same in time. It was once neat and trim, but now a mess of forgotten cuts. His right eye was swollen shut, his lip cut, his nose broken, and his hands. His hands were ground from various injuries. John opened the bag and looked at the average man.  
“Hello, Sherrinford. I’m John. I’m almost your brother in law and I am a doctor. I’m going to look after you. Martha and my sister Harry are going to help. Nod if you understand.”  
Sherrinford’s head moved up and down. “I can talk. I’ve just not had a reason to yet.” John laughed. His voice was deep and resonant, similar to Sherlock’s but with an American accent.   
“Okay, good. I need to get you out of these clothes.” Sherrinford nodded.  
“A shower would be wonderful.” John nodded.   
“Are you up for it?”  
“I think so. It will be easier for you to assess the injuries. Although I can tell you my face is bad. My ribs hurt. Most likely fractures or cracks at 3 and 5 on right and 6 and 7 on left. My ankle is sprained and I think my wrist is broken.” He held out his right hand for John to look at. John nodded in agreement.  
“And your head?”  
“It hurts. It got bashed. I’m dehydrated and I’m tired. But alive.” Sherrinford struggled up from the bed and john assisted him into the bath. He helped pull of the dirty and bloody clothes. Sherrinford stepped into the shower and let the water wash over him.   
“From what I can see, you seem to be correct in your assessment.”  
“Years of field training. I’m assuming Myc told you I am CIA.”  
“Yes. He mentioned something about that.”  
“Money. I’m in finance. But I still went through field training.” John nodded.  
“Army?”  
“What?” John asked. “Yes. How did you know?”  
“I am as good as my brothers.” Sherrinford smiled. “Sherlock, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“Thought so. You look like his type.” John chuckled. He held out a fresh towel and help his new friend back to the bed. He pulled out a pair of sleep pants and a tee shirt of Sherlock’s from the bureau and gave them to Sherrinford to put on.  
“Thanks.” Sherrinford sat patiently as John set his wrist and said nothing when the women returned to the room. Martha was stunned to see her step-son sitting up.  
“Sherr, I was so worried.” She said. He smiled. John could see Ben in his face.  
“Martha, I am fine.” John gave a small nod and had Harry assisted him with a few minor stitches on his face.   
“I hope so. You gave me such a fright.” Martha said. “We need tea.” She announced and left the room. John let out a long deep breath.  
“Yeah. I feel that way around her too.” Sherrinford stated. John chuckled.  
“I only met her about a year ago. It’s taken a bit of getting used to.” John said. Harry smiled.  
“So, Harry, how do you fit into this group of misfits?” Sherrinford asked trying to change the subject.  
“I’m John’s sister.” She said. She wasn’t sure how much further to go. Sherrinford sat back on the bed and winced a bit at the pain. He held out his arm and Harry assisted John with setting a cast. John marveled at what was in the bag and wondered secretly if he could keep it. There was more than enough things here to keep Sherlock healthy for a while.  
“No. That I know. But there is something else.” Sherrinford gazed at her with same inscrutable eyes that the other Holmes brothers used. John felt it unnerving to see someone else using the same exercises.  
“Mycroft.” Sherrinford stated. Harry bit her lip. “But it’s relatively recent. Unlike John here and Sherlock. They have been together for years.” John smiled.  
“Are you that good? He asked.   
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, Mycroft and Sherlock often overlook one thing in their deductions. It’s something simple. Have you not really seen what you are missing?” John loved having the upper hand on a Holmes boy. It was rare and he relished in it for a moment while he finished his cast. Harry watched John and saw the amusement in his eyes.  
“He doesn’t really see it, does he?” Harry asked after a moment.  
“I don’t.” Sherrinford answered. “Let’s blame it on the pain, shall we?”  
“Ah.” John said. “Another Holmes who will not admit his weaknesses. Sherlock and I have only been together a few months. I am recently widowed.” John said with a trace of sadness in his voice.  
“You two have a couple for years. Just not a real couple.” Sherrinford said and Harry laughed. It was the truth. John smirked.  
“Let’s see about some food and tea. You up for walking?” Sherrinford nodded and they went to the kitchen.

************************************************************  
Ben stood in the garden with Mycroft and Sherlock. They were just out of the sight of the windows and the doors of the house, all sneaking a cigarette from their other halves.  
“So, tell me what happened.” Sherlock said to his father. It was clear that Ben was shaken up by the fact that his oldest son just showed up on the door step bloody and beaten after not hearing from him in a while.  
“Your mother was in the kitchen. She had one of her compulsions to cook. She said someone knocked on the door and she turned and there was Sherrinford.” Sherlock nodded.  
“Has he said anything?”  
“No. Not a word.”   
“Moran.” Mycroft said to Sherlock. He nodded in agreement. Sherrinford must have been beaten and held for leverage, but they weren’t sure why. They would have to wait for John’s assessment to be finished.   
“It’s strange having you all here. Especially after recent events.” Ben stated. Sherlock regarded his father, often forgetting how observant the man could be.  
“That it is.” Mycroft said. He pulled out his phone and sent a few text messages. Ben turned and went back into the house. The brothers were standing alone.  
“What do you make of all of this?” Sherlock asked Mycroft.  
“My sources tell me that our dear brother hasn’t been behaving himself. After the trouble in Columbia a few years ago, he was on watch. But there are problems. We are still looking into it.” Sherlock nodded.  
“And what’s Moran’s involvement in this?” Sherlock wondered aloud.  
“I’m not sure…. Yet.” Mycroft said. “I have watched Sherrinford since Columbia with more scrutiny than before. Something is different about him. Why is he here?”  
“Safety.” Sherlock said. “This is a safe place for all of us. Even if it’s fleeting.” Mycroft nodded and they began to stroll towards the house.  
“I don’t think we should trust him.” Mycroft said.  
“I agree, brother.” Sherlock said. They walked into the kitchen and saw their brother sitting at the table, drinking tea with their mother.  
“Sherlock! Mycroft!” Sherrinford said. “I was wondering when you would join us.”  
“Sherrinford.” Mycroft said. Sherlock went to John and wrapped his arms around him possessively. John noted the tension and stroked Sherlock’s back.  
“Sherlock, why don’t you and I go into town and secure us and Mycroft and Harry a few rooms at that inn. I think it’s best we don’t invade the house.” Sherlock nodded.  
“I’ll drive with you. I need to stop at the chemist John. It seems that I ran out of the house without my medication.” Mycroft said. John noted the tone and nodded. Harry was too busy with Martha and gathering things for dinner to notice.  
“Mother, we will be back directly.” Mycroft said and they left the room.

***********************************************

Mycroft shut the door to the car and instructed the driver to drive out of town and down a small road.  
“Anthea already has gotten us rooms and our things have arrived.” Mycroft reported.  
“So, John, what is your take?” Sherlock asked. They sat on a park bench looking out over the sea and Sherlock paced in front of them.  
“He’s banged up. Not so bad. Broken wrist, some ribs, his nose. Cuts and bruises, mostly. Really basic beating. I’ve had worse after a rugby match.”   
“And did he say anything to you or Harry?” Sherlock pressed.  
“Nothing substantial. He deduced that you and were together and that Harry and Mycroft were a couple. But he missed that you and I are only together for a short period of time. He’s charming in a way.” Mycroft nodded.  
“That he is.”  
“You don’t trust him.” John observed. Sherlock stopped and gaped at John. John smiled. “I am not an idiot.”  
“I know that.” Sherlock breathed out in exasperation. “I don’t know why you insist on reminding me so often.” John shook his head with a laugh.  
“No, we don’t trust him. Never really did.” Mycroft said. “There is something there, under the surface.”  
“I can tell. No man in finance, even CIA finance, is that crafty.” John stated. “He reminds of this guy I knew in the service whoturned out to be some sort of double agent. Always charming on the outside, but you didn’t want to get on his bad side.”  
“So, brother, what is our plan?” Sherlock asked.  
“Time.” Mycroft said. “We will figure it out together.”  
“In the meantime, I can not only drug him a bit, I can tell you that if he is staying at the house, you can listen to him. I planted a bug that I found in the bag in Sherlock’s room.” John said standing up.  
“You planted a bug?” Mycroft said, astonished. Sherlock stopped, spun and came to kiss John deeply.  
“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?” John asked. “And by the way, good job with the medication thing. Make him think you are weaker than you are.”  
“I was just trying to get out of the house. But, yes….” Mycroft thought for a moment. “Weaker is good too.”  
“Let’s get back. I don’t like leaving them alone for too long.” Sherlock said. They piled back into the car and headed back to the house.

************************************

When they returned, Sherrinford was regaling Harry with stories of a young Mycroft. She was pink from laughing and Mycroft softened at the sight for a moment, but pulled his mask back into place.  
“Harry, might I speak to you for a moment?” Mycroft asked. Harry smiled, placed her hand on Sherrinford’s arm as she left. Mycroft took her into the lounge.  
Mycroft pulled her into his arms, letting his mask slip and being his normal self with her.  
“I’m sorry about before.” He said. She nestled her head to his chest.  
“It’s fine. It was a shock.”  
“That it was.” Mycroft said. He pulled back a bit and held her by her wrists. “Do me a favor.” Harry nodded. “Please do not find yourself in his company alone. I have never trusted him and I do not now.”  
“Okay.” Harry said slowly. She didn’t understand but she trusted Mycroft. He pulled her in and kissed her deeply.   
“I love you.” He said and pulled her close to him again.  
“I love you, too. Are we staying here?”  
“I thought we could, in town at the inn.” She nodded against his chest.   
“Our first holiday if you like.”  
“I will take you on holiday. A proper one. Soon enough.” Harry smiled.  
“Hmmm. Someplace with sun and water.”  
“Anywhere.”  
In the distance, Martha called them for supper.


	22. Revelations Come to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin to learn more about the other one.

Chapter 22- Revelations Come To Light

The family sat down at the table. Sherlock and Mycroft were tense... very tense. They were masters at hiding it, but John noticed. He had spent enough time with both of them to notice the difference. Martha was busy filling plates and Ben was enjoying having all his children under one roof for what John suspected had been some time. John shifted in his seat and turned towards Sherrinford. He didn’t trust him, but he was curious.   
John reached in his pocket and pulled out a package of medication. He pulled out five tablets and handed them to Sherrinford. He looked at them suspiciously and John nodded.  
“Pain medication, something for the swelling and antibiotics.” Sherrinford nodded and tossed them into his mouth. “So, how did you end up here?” Sherlock snapped his head up in attention. He wanted to know, but was shocked that John was being so blunt about it. Mycroft tried to remain impassive, but he wanted to hear the story as much as anyone. Harry kicked her brother under the table.  
“John. You don’t have to be so rude.” She said.  
“I’m not rude.” John said. “I’m tired. I just gave the man some pain medication that will make him sleepy shortly. And I am not sure that I can tolerate dancing around the subject much longer. It’s quite odd, don’t you think that he ends up here, battered and bloody? I am curious why.” Harry narrowed her eyes at her brother. Sherlock smirked. John gave him a steely look and Sherlock picked up a glass of wine.  
“Well, John, since you are the only one who has really asked, I guess I could answer it.” Sherrinford said. “I was in Zurich. Working.” He took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “I decided that it was too long since I had come to see Dad. So, I told my boss that I was taking a few days off. I flew into London and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the back of some car. I had a headache and felt like shit, basically. I was dumped on the side of some road after being beaten and kicked. I was left with just the clothes on my back. I think that was about four days ago.”  
“You poor dear.” Martha tutted. Sherlock tsked his tongue and Mycroft was filing in his brain.  
“Four days.” Said John. It wasn’t adding up for him.  
“Yes.”  
“There seems to be a bit of inconsistency with your story.” Sherlock said. Sherrinford nodded and eyed his step mother.  
“Yes. I would rather not discuss it yet.” Mycroft cleared his throat.  
“We will discuss it later, when you are more rested.” He said. Sherrinford nodded in agreement and tucked into his food. John let out a breath and pushed his plate away. He had been picking at his dinner in a very Sherlock kind of way. He turned to Sherlock.  
“I’m not very hungry. We ate so much last night. What I could really use is a fag.” Sherlock had to fight to hide his shock and Harry’s eyes shot to her brother.  
“I thought you quit.” Mycroft said, trying to recover control of the scene as quickly as possible.  
“Not really.” John shrugged. He reached into Sherlock’s inside jacket pocket and took out the pack and lighter he knew was there. He got up from the table and went towards the door. He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock.  
“Joining me?” he asked. Sherlock wiped his mouth on the napkin and rose from the table. His mother glared at him and he winked at her before leaving the room with John.  
“That’s some excuse.” Sherlock said as John lit them each a fag. John took a tentative drag and licked his lips.  
“It’s really not.” He said. Sherlock knitted his eyebrows. “Service. I’ve not been a stranger to smoking.” He said.  
“But you hate when I do.” Sherlock whined.  
“Yes. But right now…” John took a drag and let it out. “Ever notice how I never really complained about the smell in the flat? Just about your health?”  
Sherlock was thrown. It was something he had missed. “Fuck.” John chuckled. “But you needed to get out for a moment? What’s bothering you?”  
“A lot. A fuckton really.” John said.  
“We need to talk with Mycroft. I’m worried about Sherrinford being here with my parents.” Sherlock said. “But it’s not safe to talk here. And you still haven’t told me why you were so upset before.”  
“Agreed. But that’s why I gave Sherrinford enough pain medication to put down a small farm animal. I figure if he has half the metabolism of you or half the medication tolerance of Mycroft that should keep him down for about four hours.” Sherlock smiled. He reached in and kissed John.  
“I knew there was a reason I was marrying a doctor.” He said. John chuckled again.  
“You say that like I’m a sure thing.” Sherlock smiled. His smile was genuine and sincere.  
“You are. That’s why I love you.” John smiled back and laughed with his whole voice.  
“I love you, too. Now, let’s get back. Sherrinford should be headed up to bed soon. We can get back to the inn and talk with Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded and they went back into the house.

**************************************  
John was as good as his word. Sherrinford’s energy was flagging quickly, and after a few more bites of food and a bit more small talk, he excused himself and went to bed. Mycroft tilted his head at John and John gave him a smug smile. Sherlock beamed at his brother. Harry just shook her head. She was getting used to this life and John felt both comforted and worried by the fact his sister was involved. It was not what he wanted for her.  
The siblings went to the inn after a few goodbyes and a vague promise of breakfast in the morning. Harry declared she was tired and went to the room she was sharing with Mycroft. John and the Holmes brothers sat on the front porch to talk.  
“I can’t believe your frankness.” Sherlock said to John. John smiled a wry smile.  
“Well, we were all thinking it. I just decided that we weren’t going to have much opportunity to get his story from him before he had an ample amount of time to change the facts.” Mycroft nodded.  
“You are to be commended for that.” He said. John chuckled.  
“See, that’s the thing, Mycroft. You seem to constantly underestimate me.” Sherlock laughed.  
“That he does.” He pulled John against him and John settled in for a cuddle.  
“I should know better by now.” Mycroft acknowledged.  
“So, now that we have that settled, would you please tell me what happened in Columbia, why neither of you have ever mentioned your brother before today, and what the fuck really happened? I know you know more than you are letting on, Mycroft.” John said. Mycroft nodded.  
“Well, shall I begin?” Sherlock nodded. “Sherrinford is five years older than me. I don’t remember much about him before Sherlock was born. It was shortly after that when he came to spend his first summer with us. I remember thinking how wonderful it was going to be to have an older brother to play with, especially since Sherlock was so little. But Sherrinford was twelve and a proper git. He wanted nothing to do with me. He thought he was the cool American and I was so…” Mycroft wandered around his head for the best word. “British. But as fast as it came, the summer was over and I was away to school. I never thought about it again.”  
“The first time I registered Sherrinford, I was four. He came for the summer again. He was sixteen and an arse. He wanted nothing to do with Mycroft or myself again. Mother and Father took us all to France for a holiday. He kept trying to show off to the girls and actually left me behind on the beach one day. Mother was furious. I was fine, of course.”  
“And then he went to university in the states?” John guessed.  
“Yes. Harvard. He is as smart as we are, but arrogant. Mean. Deceitful. He ended up in international banking. He has an ear for languages. That’s how he got drafted into the CIA.” Mycroft continued. “About ten years ago, he came to England for a visit. He was working. Sherlock was doing poorly and I had that to deal with.” Sherlock shot his brother a look and Mycroft waved it away with his hand.   
“You never had to deal with anything.” Sherlock shot.  
“I didn’t. But I did it anyway. Sherrinford showed up in my office. I was up for a promotion and I was doing well at work. He looked…..” Mycroft took a sip of his brandy he had in his hand. “He looked as if he was into something deep. He was scared, but his usual American bravado wouldn’t allow him to reveal how much trouble he was really in. He sat in my office and told me that I had to help him. That I needed to fix his problem.”  
“Which was what, exactly?” John asked.  
“I cannot say.” Mycroft said. “Trust me, John. This is not me hiding things from you. It’s really a case of plausible deniability. I didn’t want the details. I do not know the whole story to this day. I offered to help where I could. However, not knowing the situation in full was not to my benefit. I ended up getting three people killed and lost the promotion. It is a rare blight on my record.” John smirked.  
“At least it was the one time you got caught.” Sherlock said.  
“Sherlock.” John said, his tone mildly warning.  
“I have kept tabs on him when I can since. He was working. Nothing astonishing to report.” Mycroft said. He stopped talking for a moment.  
“However.” John said. He knew that Mycroft was stalling for time. Sherlock sat back, knowing that this was the part that Mycroft hadn’t been sharing. He knew more than he had been letting on.  
“Five years ago, Sherrinford’s mother passed. He was devastated. He always blamed Father for leaving him. For abandoning him. But it was his mother that left. And she was his world. Shortly after that, his record at work was full of black marks. He performed his job with minimal interest. But there was money, coming in from somewhere. It took me a while to track it. I only found it about three years ago.” John counted in his head and chewed his bottom lip while he thought.  
Sherlock took in a deep breath.  
“Bloody hell.” He said softly.  
“Exactly.” Mycroft said. John was a bit slower. His eyes got large. He turned to look at Sherlock.  
“Money. Finances.” Sherlock nodded his head. “Mycroft did you and Sherlock finally take away the money from Moran?” John asked.  
“Yes.”  
“When?”  
“Seven days ago.”  
“When was the last time you looked in on our brother?” Sherlock asked.  
“Right before I was taken.” Mycroft said. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath.  
“He’s been planning this.” Sherlock said.  
“Yes. He shows up the day after Moran gets arrested. I’m starting to wonder if he’s been the one assigned to watch your parents.” John said. Mycroft pondered John’s statement for moment before nodding his head.  
“I really need to stop underestimating you.” Mycroft said.  
“Yes. You. Do.” John said. He huffed out a breath. “Now what do we do?”  
“I don’t know.” Mycroft admitted. Sherlock shook his head.  
They were at an impasse.

*************************************

Harry was in a light sleep when she felt the opposite side of the bed dip under Mycroft’s weight. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, rubbing his new knee absently. He sighed and rolled to lay down. Harry shifted towards him.  
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” He said, his voice tired and sad.  
“I’m worried about you.” She said. She cuddled up to his side and he pulled her close.  
“I am too.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.  
“Not really.” Mycroft said, quickly. He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed her arm.  
“There is something about your brother that you don’t trust.” She said.  
“Yes. That is correct. I’ve never trusted him. He’s never given me a reason to. But there is more to it than that. There are just too many unanswered questions.”  
“I thought that Sherlock was a prat, but Sherrinford is worse.” Harry stated. Mycroft smiled at that. “He’s so damn condescending.”  
“Sherlock is a prat. But Sherrinford.” Mycroft let out a breath. “He’s dangerous. Sherlock is Sherlock. And John helps keep him centered. Even before John, I was able to keep him pretty close to the center. But Sherrinford is a psychopath. I can’t find another word for him.”  
“Like Moriarty.”  
“Yes.”  
“He has something to do with him, doesn’t he?” Harry asked after a while. Mycroft nodded in the semi dark. “Is it at all possible, and I am only saying this because I want to believe that underneath all that American smugness he shares your DNA, that he was coerced into whatever he got involved in?”   
Mycroft pondered it for a while. “I honestly don’t know.” He pulled Harry closer to him. “Part of me wants to believe it. Wishes that it was true. But I seriously doubt it.” Harry nodded against him.  
“So, now what?” she asked. Mycroft turned and kissed her deeply.  
“I have no bloody idea.”

**************************************

Sherrinford sat up in the bed, the room dark except for a sliver of light passing through the curtains from the full moon. He ran his hands over his face and let out a deep breath. His plan was working. His brain was still a little off from the amount of pain killers that John had slipped him. But Sherrinford was aware of what he had taken. He knew that the rest of them needed to feel as if they were in control. And he knew that he wasn’t at the moment. It was nice to think that someone was. Someone who wasn’t going to necessarily kill him at the next opportune moment. He closed his eyes and lay back down. Better to sleep while he could. No one would look for him. Yet.


	23. London Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heading into London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking around. I am so amazed at the following and the love! Keep it coming.  
> Thanks once again to my wonderful beta mafm! You rock girl!

Chapter 23- London Air

John had made the suggestion the next morning over coffee. He was sure that Sherlock and Mycroft were going to shoot him down, but they both agreed that it was a brilliant idea.  
“I’m just saying that allowing me to take him to the hospital, and to make sure there is nothing more wrong that what I diagnosed in the shower might go a bit at gaining his trust. He might not think of me as a threat, as I am not either of you.” John said.  
Mycroft stirred his coffee. Sherlock had his arms on the table, his head resting atop them. He hadn’t slept for several nights and he was waning fast. Harry nodded her head.  
“I can help there. I’m not really a part of this trio you have. He might trust me a bit. Plus, he seems like a misogynist. I might have a bit of ground there.” Harry offered.  
“Mycroft, should I be concerned that we are willing to let our Watsons get information out of our brother?” Sherlock asked. He was tired and snappy. John rubbed his back with his free hand, his other moving his coffee cup up to his lips.  
“I think it’s a perfect plan.” Mycroft said. “I’ll take Harry home and begin to work on a few loose ends that are bothering me.”  
“Sherlock and I will collect Sherrinford. We will make your excuses. I agree that the fewer of us who there are, the better. Less likely to spook him.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“I don’t want to go back to the house.” He whined. John threw him a look. It was hard at first, but the dark circles under Sherlock’s eyes softened it.  
“Then go back to bed. Sleep for a while. Or come with me now and we can sleep in our own bed later. Just you and I. Shut out the world for a while.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, a small crinkle at the top of his nose. He closed his eyes.  
“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He huffed. John nodded and led Sherlock from the restaurant to the car. Mycroft looked at Harry.  
“Are you alright with this?” he asked. She hadn’t really done anything like this before. “It won’t be pleasant.”  
“And what? Years of knowing Sherlock hasn’t prepared me for a Holmes? I think I handle you just fine.” She said with a smirk.   
“Yes. You do. But you know exactly how to get me to behave.” He said with a wink. Harry giggled.  
“Like this morning?” she asked. Mycroft’s mind drifted back to the forceful way she finally woke him up in the early morning, using sex to entice him to stop worrying for an hour.  
“Exactly.” She smiled and licked her lips in a very obscene way. Mycroft felt the sudden rush of blood to his groin and looked her dead in the eye.  
“Damn, woman.” He said. “You are lucky I love you.” She leaned in close and kissed him in response.

************************************************

Sherlock had been petulant at the inn, but by the time they had arrived at the cottage, he was downright surly. John knew in his heart that he loved Sherlock more than anything, but at the moment he was plotting sixty different ways to kill him before they reached the door and make everyone think it was an accident. He was sure that in addition to that, both Mycroft and Lestrade would help him cover it up if it came down to it.  
John stopped Sherlock on the garden path and grabbed him by the back of the neck. He pulled him down to rest his forehead on his own.  
“I swear, when this is all said and done we will go on holiday. But we need to see this through. And you are being a fucking dick right now. I’ve had enough. So, put the crap aside and behave. Have a fag before you come in. Otherwise, you will be sleeping on your own tonight. And I will drug you if I have to.” John said and kissed him. Sherlock was stunned, but he nodded and drew out a fag as John entered the house.  
John walked into the kitchen after a knock. He found Martha at the stove cooking while Ben sat at the table speaking to his son. John planted a kiss on Martha’s cheek as he walked past.  
“You alone?” she asked. John shook his head.  
“Sherlock’s in the garden. Mycroft had to get back to work; Harry went with him.” John said. Martha nodded and went back to cooking. John pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.  
“By the way, you will eat something your mother cooks for breakfast. Or no body parts in the flat for a month. Love you. X-JW” He closed his phone and helped himself to a cup of coffee. He was sure he was going to need it. His phone pinged in his hand and he couldn’t contain his snicker as he read the message.  
“Have I told you today how much I hate you? XX-SH”  
“You can rant about it all the way back to London. Get your sexy arse in here. - JW” He put his phone away and found a break in the conversation between Ben and Sherrinford.   
“How are you feeling this morning?” John asked, looking over the slightly less swollen face.  
“Somewhat better. But I feel like I was hit by a truck.”  
“You might as well have been. I’m a little worried about the ribs on the right. I would love to get you back to London and into my clinic. Take a few films. See what damage your kidneys or liver have sustained.” John said. Sherrinford nodded.  
“Sound plan.”   
Sherlock closed the door softly behind him and came into the kitchen. He kissed his mother and after grabbing coffee, sat down at the table. John decided to continue his conversation with Sherrinford and hoped that Sherlock would keep quiet.  
“Where were you staying in London?” John asked, sitting back in the chair, looking as much at ease as he could. He was trying to draw Sherrinford into a false sense of comfort.  
“I never checked in any place. I was grabbed from the airport.” He explained. “I only had a carry-on bag. iPad, a couple of days’ worth of clothes, and a few toiletries. I wasn’t planning on it being an extended stay.”  
“So, it’s gone then?” John asked. Sherrinford nodded. “So, how about this then? We get you sorted out at the surgery, and then while Sherlock goes home to sleep,” John’s eyes shot to Sherlock’s and he received a grimace in exchange, “You and I get some shopping, some take away and then go home. I would feel better that you were where I could keep an eye on you tonight. You can sleep in the spare room.” Sherlock’s gaze bore into John and he smirked.  
“Are you sure?” Sherrinford asked. “I’m not entirely sure that I would be welcome.” John nodded.  
“It’s my flat, too.” Sherlock grunted at him and Martha began to lay the table with breakfast. John served a plate to himself and a plate for Sherlock. Sherlock gave him a dark glare. “One month.” John warned, before Sherlock picked up his fork reluctantly and began to eat. Martha smiled and refilled the coffee cups. John produced two shining white tablets from his pocket for Sherrinford who took them and swallowed them dry. Sherlock watched him and continued to eat.  
Ben smiled and tucked into his own breakfast. “My boys.” He mumbled. Martha fussed over the men and felt lighter than air.

************************************

Mycroft and Harry sat in the temperate cool of the car on their way back to London. Harry curled up to Mycroft and he had his arm around her, his mobile limply held in his other fingers.  
“You scared me yesterday.” She said. Mycroft nodded.  
“I am sorry.” Mycroft said. “I did not intend for you to ever see me like that. But my brothers affect me more deeply than I often let on.”  
“I know they do. Sherlock especially.”  
“I think, sometimes, that I failed him.” Mycroft said in a quiet voice. Harry chuckled.  
“You didn’t. He’s brilliant, super intelligent. And I have seen the way he is with my brother. He’s a prat. I’ll give you that. But I don’t think that’s your doing.” She said, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.  
“Harry. A majority of who he is now is because of John, not me. But I really don’t want to speak of him any longer today. I want to make amends to you for my behavior yesterday.” Mycroft said. His voice was deeper than normal and Harry let out a little unrestrained moan in her throat.  
“Myc, you had a bad day. It’s over.” She said. Mycroft nodded. “So, we need to move on. What is the new plan, then?” she asked, trying to get excited for him that she was part of the solution and not a problem.  
Mycroft pulled her closer to him. “Not that I do not have a set of plans that I need to put on the back burner,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “But I do need to get to the office for a while. I was rather hoping that John would text me the details of his plan soon, so that I would feel better about leaving you.”  
As if the gods above heard the request, Mycroft’s mobile buzzed in his hand. Harry’s sent a ping of alert as well and they both looked at them.  
“Heading back to London with both in tow. Send Harry to Baker St. Join us for dinner. Baker Street at eight. –JW”  
“Baker St. Then surgery. Shopping. Dinner. We will talk later. X - JW” Harry read her text again after showing it to Mycroft.  
“He never did tell me what Sherlock said to anger him before.” She said. Mycroft nodded. “Do you know?”  
“I do not know, specifically. I can deduce however, that there was some anger over Sherrinford’s existence.” Mycroft offered.  
“And after the whole Moran is his brother-in-law… I get it.”  
“I think that things like this will rear their ugly heads for some time. Neither Sherlock nor I are especially good at sharing things. Particularly things that we don’t see as important to share for the sake of sharing them.” Harry nodded as Mycroft continued. “We both have a limited supply of personal information and at times when we are close to someone we do not realize that this information should be shared. It’s not done with ill intent. To us, it’s a matter of relevance.”  
“I understand that.” Harry said carefully. “But there is also the point where you and Sherlock can look at a person and tell their whole life at a glance. At best it’s unnerving. John has had more practice at hiding things from the two of you and more time getting used to it. For me, it’s scary and unsettling. And I learned through the dismal failure of my marriage, that one of the best things is sharing. You can’t live in a bubble. Sharing is part of a relationship.”  
Mycroft stared ahead for a while and processed what he was being told. He nodded slowly. “I promise that I will try to be more forthcoming with information. I will try not to look at you and deduce everything. It has honestly not been something that I have ever realized before, not something that I thought would need. I never expected to be in a relationship.” He pulled Harry closer to his side. “But I am glad. No, not glad.” Harry looked at him for a moment.  
“Not glad?” she said.   
“No, definitely not. Glad is not the correct word. But I do not know if I can find the right word to describe this feeling. Either way, I am happy to be in a relationship with you. I truly love you and could not imagine my life without you in it.”  
“I am thrilled myself.” Harry said, kissing Mycroft. They had arrived at Baker Street. They sat for a few moments, breathing in each other and gently reminding themselves of their love with their mouths. Harry broke away. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.” She said. Mycroft nodded.   
“I do love you.” He said as he gave her once last kiss.  
“And I love you too, Myc.” She climbed out of the car and after a moment to allow his half-hard erection to dissipate, he went to work.

************************************

John put his phone away after sending the texts to Harry and Mycroft. He looked across the seat to where Sherlock was slumped, playing at his mobile with half interest. Sherrinford was looking out the window.  
“You never did like me much, did you?” Sherrinford said, his gaze never turning from the window. Sherlock’s fingers paused on the phone and then continued.  
“Nope.” He popped the p. He was tired and John sighed. He needed to get him to bed before he had to carry him up the stairs to the flat.  
“I guess I deserved it. I was a bit of an asshole when we were younger.” Sherrinford said with a laugh.   
“Still are.” Sherlock said. John glared at him. Sherlock shrugged and kept at his phone.  
“I’m not trying to make amends or anything, Sherlock. But I would like to try to establish some sort of a relationship.” John narrowed his eyes at Sherrinford. Sherlock grunted.  
“Sherlock, maybe you should hear your brother out. Harry and I have been better than ever.” John said.  
“No.” Sherlock said.  
“No?” Sherrinford questioned. Sherlock sighed loudly and put away his phone. He turned towards his brother.  
“No.”  
“Can you give me more than that?” Sherrinford challenged.  
“I could.” Sherlock was done. John could see the fatigue around his edges, making him less than personable and difficult to handle.  
“Sherrinford, please leave it.” John warned.  
“I’d rather know.” He said.  
“You have been warned.” John said with a frustrated exhale. Sherrinford noticed the glare Sherlock gave John. “You are over-tired, exhausted, to be exact. When you are this tired you are a right arse.”  
“I don’t care, John.” Sherrinford said. “If I didn’t think I could handle a little shit from my brother, I wouldn’t have asked for it. So, Sherlock, lay it on.” John gave a resigned shake of his head and Sherlock gave Sherrinford his full gaze.  
“You have been living outside of Washington. A smaller flat than you used to have. You are having financial troubles, more so since your mother died. You have no significant person in your life, a few associates you are seen with, women mostly. Rehab at some point, but I’m not sure for what. You haven’t smoked in about two years, but you are always itching for a cigarette.” Sherlock paused and tilted his head sideways. “There was someone. Someone you lost. Not your mother, but someone you cared about.” Sherlock waved his hand. “Zurich was not your original assignment. You took it from someone. And…” Sherlock paused again. He narrowed his eyes. “Oh. Oh!” Sherrinford’s face contorted a bit.  
“What?” he asked.  
“You are in trouble. Not just with work. And not with whatever happened when you arrived in London. But something else.”   
“Exactly how safe is Baker Street?” Sherrinford asked.  
“Very.” Sherlock said. He was interested in his brother’s face, studying it. Looking for something.  
“We’ll talk there. I want to wait for Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded his head. John crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the pair of brothers.  
“So, how did he do?” John finally asked. Sherrinford smiled.  
“Perfectly. Exactly what I wanted him to see.” Sherrinford stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. “It’s good to breath in London air again.” They went into the flat to find Harry.


	24. Sherrinford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn about the other one....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to figure out where something went wrong. My numbers have been off. And I realized that I missed a posted chapter. Some how it never posted. So, I have gone back and added Chapter 10, the proper chapter 10. So my numbers are now correct.   
> I also posted the final numbers of this section. I am currently writing the second to last chapter. It's going to be a loooooong one. I hope it all makes sense. But that what a wonderful beta is for. Like you mafm.... you are keeping me on track.  
> Thank you for all the comments. I really love hearing what you all think!
> 
> So with out further ado.... meet the other brother from another mother.... (sorry. Couldn't resist)

Chapter 24- Sherrinford

Sherrinford remembered the first time he saw his mother cry. He was four. She was sitting at their kitchen table in their Boston apartment. It was a third floor walk-up, and it was small. But he remembered it as being filled with love and cozy. His mother was looking at a card that had come in the mail and he saw the tears spilling down her cheeks.  
“Mommy, what’s wrong?” he asked. He was afraid that he had done something to upset her.  
“Your father got married.” She said. Sherrinford climbed up onto her lap and looked at the picture in her hand.  
“To that lady?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay.” Sherrinford kissed his mother and looked at the picture of his father. He didn’t remember meeting him, but he sent money to take care of him and mommy so he wasn’t so bad.  
“He wants you to come and spend some time with them. They are going to have a baby.” Sherrinford considered this information for a while.  
“I’m going to be a big brother?” he finally asked. His mother nodded and he decided that it was enough information for him. He jumped down from his mother’s lap and went to play with his Legos.  
Sherrinford spent occasional summer vacations with his father and brothers. But he never forgot his mother’s disappointment in his father’s new family. He decided that it was better for him to be somewhat distant to his brothers and it would help his nerdy reputation at school if he could score with a European girl. And it had almost worked the summer in France until he forgot about Sherlock and left him . He hadn’t returned to visit with the family after experiencing Martha and Ben’s anger at his teenaged carelessness .  
Harvard was good for him. He was close to home, but on his own. His gift for numbers helped decide his career in banking. And things were good. For the first time in his life, he thought things were good.  
The CIA came calling when he was thirty. He joined after discovering that his younger brother Mycroft was also in the spy industry. He thought his father would be proud. Sherrinford was smart, with a gift for languages and the deductive ability to see what others had missed. He was great in the field. Until everything was turned upside down when he was stationed in Columbia.  
Bogotá. It was a city teaming with life and had a large, dark underbelly that only the most stupid or brave entered into. Sherrinford decided he wanted to be a part of the field op. He waded in and lost himself. He discovered the wonders of narcotics: the silence in the high and the beauty of sex while stoned. But these newfound pleasures became his undoing.  
Mycroft could have helped him, and he tried. He informed his older brother that he didn’t want to know details, and that he would help him only once. Plausible deniability. But the op went bad. Sherrinford was too strung out to correct the last-minute mistakes that should have saved the agents that Mycroft sent with him. And he was worried about Isabella, which was ultimately his final undoing.  
Sherrinford hit rock bottom. He fell into a spiral of drugs and sex. He had lost his Isabella. He started skimming money from the accounts he had set up for the CIA to help feed and fuel his addictions. Sex and drugs, drugs and sex. It was a hazy few years for him. He finally set foot into his first AA meeting six hours after admitting his mother to the Hospice unit at Mass General. He wanted to get sober. He needed to get sober. But he also feared for his life. He had been reckless and had pissed off a few very important people in Miami. It was more than a little concerning.  
But there was one more reason to get sober and to curb his sex addiction. He had finally heard from Isabella, who had contacted him through some old and rarely used back channels. Sherrinford received the letter from her and was completely floored by its contents. He knew that Mycroft didn’t know a thing about it, and he wanted to keep it that way for a while .  
Sober, motherless, and adrift in debt, Sherrinford was approached while on a vacation in Rio. He was asked kindly to assist with some money transfers that were to be kept secret. He set up operating accounts for a criminal mastermind who called himself a consulting criminal. Sherrinford had laughed. But it was the contents of Isabella’s letter that they used against him. And faced with that threat, he had to concede to the wishes of the self-described consulting criminal.   
Sherrinford counted the number of steps from the curb, and from the car to the door. Inside the door to the stairs, the number of stairs, the number of steps to the sofa, the number of steps everywhere were constantly counted. It was a vestige of his field-op days. He didn’t want to get caught short anywhere. John’s pixie-like sister was sitting on the sofa smoking a cigarette, waiting. Sherlock made some surly comments as John pushed him up the stairs to the bedroom.  
Sherrinford sat down on the sofa near Harry. “Tea?” she asked.  
“Honestly, no. Thanks. Can’t stand the stuff.”  
“Okay.” She said, shrugging. She got up and went into the kitchen to open the fridge and rout for something to offer him. Harry jumped when she heard his voice in the doorway.  
“I’m not all bad.” He said, slight resignation in his voice.  
“I know.” She said. “I know how the Holmes’ work.” She pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks and listened as John came down the stairs.  
“I think he’ll be out for a while.” John said as he came into the kitchen. He pulled out his phone and sent off a couple of rapid fired texts that would give Sherlock pride. He waited for return messages and put his phone away. “Okay, so surgery, shopping, and back for dinner.” Harry nodded and Sherrinford toyed with his water bottle.  
“So, then let’s get on with it.” Sherrinford said. He was suddenly hostile. He didn’t like the idea of being out in public for too long.  
“Mycroft left my car.” Harry said. John nodded.   
“I sent him a text to let him know we would grab take-away later and that he should meet us here.” Harry nodded and noticed the door downstairs open and close.  
“Boys!” a familiar voice rang up the stairs.  
“Mrs. Hudson.” John said. He smiled a little at the relief she was finally home and safe. She let herself into the flat and John wrapped his strong arms around her, kissing her on the cheek.  
“Glad you are home.” He said.  
“Glad to be home.” She answered. “Where’s Sherlock?”  
“Sleeping.” John said. “We were just heading out.” Mrs. Hudson nodded and hugged Harry. She looked Sherrinford up and down.  
“Howie?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.  
“Lou Lou ?” he answered back. John’s head tilted a slight bit and he crossed his arms over his chest. His feet were planted firmly. He was worried about Mrs. Hudson. She blinked her eyes a few times and came across the room to envelope Sherrinford into a big hug.  
“It’s been too long.” She said. “And, it’s Mrs. Hudson, if you don’t mind.” She said with a saucy wink.  
“Sherrinford.” He said hugging her back. “What are you doing here?”  
“This is my building.” She said. “And I should ask the same of you.”  
“I’m Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s older brother.” Mrs. Hudson stood back for a second and scanned the man in front of her.  
“Of course.” She said. “I knew there was something about Sherlock…” Sherrinford smiled, his first genuine one in some time.  
“You must join me for tea.” She said. John cleared his throat.  
“We would love to, Mrs. Hudson, but we have business to attend to. Perhaps when we return.” John said noncommittally.  
“Later.” Sherrinford promised. He kissed her cheek and went down the stairs. John and Harry followed, Harry throwing John a questioning look. John shrugged and Sherrinford said one word. “Miami.” He climbed into the car.


	25. Truth is Like a Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear of Sherrinford's tale... from his mouth. We also learn his secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we are coming to the end of part 2. I am working on chapter 27, and it's not only a long one but a good one... so far.  
> Thank you to my wonderful beta- MAFM for all your hard work.  
> Keep the comments coming!

Chapter 25- Truth is like a sucker punch

John stood back as Sarah double checked the x-rays.  
“He was beaten, badly.” She said. “Did Sherlock do this?” There was a joke somewhere in there but it died a bit as it left her lips.  
“No. He’s Sherlock’s brother.” John said. “He looks like he’s in no immediate danger.” Sarah nodded.   
“I can’t believe there is another one.” Sarah said. John snorted.  
“Same father, different mother. He’s American and …a little different. I only met him yesterday.” Sarah looked at John.  
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” she asked with a laugh.  
“I ask myself that more often than I care to admit.” John said. Sarah put the x-rays down and looked over at John.  
“You know if you need anything…” she let the rest hang in the air. John leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.  
“Thanks. I know. You’ve been a good friend.” Sarah smiled and John went to give Sherrinford the good news.

*******************************************************

Sherlock was busy with his laptop when the trio returned. Sherrinford decided he was going to take a nap before dinner, as his level of pain was increasing with activity. Harry decided to visit with Mrs. Hudson for a while. John brought Sherlock a cup of tea.  
“Did you sleep, love?” he asked.  
“Some. I always sleep better with you.” John curled his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders and he rested his chin on the top of Sherlock’s head.  
“Me too.”  
“How did things go this afternoon?” Sherlock asked.  
“As well as can be expected. Have you heard anything from Mycroft?” John asked. He settled himself half in Sherlock’s lap and half on the chair.   
“Nothing since we left Sussex, but Lestrade sent me a text about an hour ago.” Sherlock handed John his phone. John scrolled through the messages.  
“Double homicide and you are sitting here?” John asked, bewildered.  
“Yes. I solved it already. Obvious, really.”  
“You have really changed.” John said kissing Sherlock. Sherlock smiled.  
“What do you want to order for dinner?” Sherlock asked.  
“I’m not really hungry for food.” John said, his voice a low growl. Sherlock looked at John, his eyes a black hole of lust.  
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t really feel much like being quiet and we do have guests.” John looked at Sherlock.  
“I plan on keeping that mouth full; that should keep you from yelling too much.” Sherlock looked stunned. He moaned a bit and leaned into John for a kiss.  
“Yes, Captain Watson.” He said. John smiled, grabbed Sherlock by his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. Sherlock’s hands found John’s waist and he grabbed him hard. Their tongues found each other and John let out a little moan into Sherlock’s mouth. He was hard already and felt the strain in his jeans.  
Sherlock froze. John pulled away from the kiss and followed Sherlock’s eyes to the kitchen. Sherrinford was trying to be inconspicuous as he got himself a glass of water. “Don’t let me interrupt.” He said. John shifted a bit and Sherlock glared at his brother. The moment was lost and John decided to have a seat in his chair.  
John’s phone pinged in his pocket and he withdrew it and looked at the screen. It was a response to a text he had sent earlier that day.  
“Sent CCTV footage from Gatwick to your laptop. Encrypted. Sherlock has breaker. I will see you at dinner later. –MH” John smiled and closed his phone. Sherrinford perched himself on the sofa gingerly.  
“Good message?” he asked. John smiled a bit and looked at Sherlock. He nodded his head.   
“Our friend Molly just felt her baby kick for the first time.” John said. Sherlock smiled.  
“That’s wonderful.” Sherrinford said. He leaned back into the sofa and sipped his water. Sherlock began to pick away at his laptop keyboard.  
“Sherlock, would you please check my email? I have been waiting for the email about my service reunion. We need to make hotel reservations if we are going and they were supposed to send me the name of the venue.” John said. Sherlock nodded his head and typed at a furious pace. He paused.  
“Where did you serve?” Sherrinford asked. He was trying to make small talk.  
“Afghanistan. “  
“But you were not only just a doctor. You were a soldier too.”  
“I was.” John answered.  
“And what sent you home?” Sherrinford asked. “It wasn’t love.”  
“I was shot.”  
“No shit.” Sherrinford said, seemingly impressed. “Have you been shot?” he asked his brother.  
“Yes.” Sherlock said, smirking a little. He wanted to make a joke about it, but he wasn’t sure how John would react.  
“My wife decided that she didn’t like the idea I might leave her for your brother and shot him.” John said. “Pretty good shot, too.” Sherrinford whistled low.  
“That’s fucked up.”  
“Tell me about it. This…” John waved his hand between himself and Sherlock “is fucked up.” Sherlock looked at John for a moment and John shrugged. “What? You haven’t thought about the fact that our relationship and all its pitfalls aren’t screwed up?”  
“No, I have. Believe me, I have.” Sherlock said. His eyes held John’s for a moment and then flitted towards his chest. John smiled.  
“Sometime, you will have to tell me the story.” Sherrinford said.  
“Read the blog.” Sherlock said. John smiled and started to laugh. Sherlock smiled and began to laugh himself.  
“This is one of the reasons I love you.” John said. He walked over to Sherlock and gave him a deep kiss. Sherrinford shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Now, what should we order for dinner?”

********************************************  
Mycroft sat gingerly on the sofa. Harry was helping John in the kitchen with the take away. Sherlock was still looking at something on his laptop and Sherrinford was sitting in Sherlock’s chair.   
“Sherrinford, I would like you to tell us everything.” Mycroft said. “And I do mean everything. I have a lot more information than you think, but I have a few holes that need to be filled in.”  
“I will.” Sherrinford said. He reached in his pocket and pulled something out between his fingertips. “And next time you want information from me, just ask. There is no reason to bug me.” He held up the bug that John had planted in the bedroom.  
“Well.” Mycroft said. He sat back on the sofa and appraised his brother. “Far more clever than I recalled.”  
“That is true.” Sherrinford scrubbed his face with his hands. “I am in deep.”  
“I gathered that.” John said, handing him a plate of food.  
“And I am afraid that if I bring anyone else into my drama, then something bad will happen.”  
“To Isabella?” Mycroft asked. Sherrinford shook his head.   
“No. I love her, but she’s not the one that I am truly scared for.”  
“Please, start at the beginning.” Sherlock said. Sherrinford put down his plate on the table as John sat in his chair. Sherlock came to perch on the arm affording him a better look at his brother’s face. Harry settled next to Mycroft on the sofa.  
“Are you certain we are safe here?” Sherrinford asked. Mycroft nodded his head. “Well, I guess I should start with Columbia.”  
“And this time, I would like to know more details.” Mycroft said.  
“Of course. I was assigned the position of setting up ghost accounts. We were funding the people the Americans wanted in power. I was in Bogotá and I wanted more. I convinced my employers that I would be better in the field. They acquiesced. I infiltrated the local cartel that was running the government. It was fun, in an interesting and dangerous way. But I then fell victim to classic vices: drugs and sex. I was addicted. After I went back to Washington, I was assigned to work on a cartel in Miami.”  
“Mrs. Hudson.” John interjected.   
“Yes. That’s where I met her. But that’s another story and not entirely mine to tell. But, I met a woman. Isabella. She is beautiful. I fell in love. It turned out she was the daughter of the man I double-crossed in Columbia. I was sent back to Columbia to continue the case. I was in the cartel working for them, trying to work on the monies. I was creating false books for them; however I was planting trails for the CIA at the same time. The cartel found out about my relationship with Isabella and that it was it. Her father kidnapped me and beat the crap out of me for three days. He threatened me. Then he set me free. That’s when I came to Mycroft for help. I wanted to get Isabella out of there. I wanted to kill her father. And I was so stoned and so blinded I misread the entire situation.”  
“And three of my men were killed. I lost my promotion.”  
“And for that I am sorry.” Sherrinford said. “I went back to D.C. I was still into drugs and I had lost my Isabella. I was in debt for my drug habit and I discovered that meaningless sex helped my empty heart. I started skimming from the accounts I was setting up for the agency. I used the money to cover my habits. It started off as a few hundred here and there and before long it was a few thousand. My work suffered. Eventually, they wouldn’t let me out into the field any longer. I was on probation and facing possible criminal charges. But I am good at what I do; I covered my tracks. Then I got a call from my mother.”  
“I remember her. I think I met her once.” Mycroft said. “As I recall she was a decent woman.”  
“She was. I remember that trip. Sherlock was a baby. She didn’t want me to fly alone to visit. I was about ten.” Sherrinford shook his head. “But, when I got the call, I was high. She was in Boston. I went to see her. She was in the hospital. I had her admitted to a hospice unit. She was dying of lung cancer. A rather aggressive type. That night I walked into my first NA meeting. I have been clean and sober since.”  
“It seems addiction runs in the family.” Sherlock said. Sherrinford nodded.  
“That it does.” He took a deep breath. “It was the day after I buried my mother that I got the letter that changed my life. Isabella contacted me.”  
John got up from the chair and moved to the window. Sherlock slid into the vacant chair.  
“What did she say?” John asked. Sherlock watched John’s back for a moment trying to deduce his anxiety.  
“She let me know that I am a father. I have an eight year old daughter named Camilla. She and her mother live in Miami now. I have seen her through surveillance video only. I don’t know if she knows about me. It was shortly after I got that letter Isabella’s father paid me a visit. He tried to take me again, but I escaped. Three days after that I was approached by an English man with an offer I couldn’t refuse. He promised that if I worked for him he would keep the cartel away from me. And if I didn’t, he would let the cartel have me and he would harm Isabella and Camilla.”  
“Moran or Moriarty?” Sherlock asked.  
“Moran. I never met Moriarty face to face. I created a financial network for him that was fool-proof. Until about a week ago, that is.”  
“It was a neat job.” Mycroft said. “It took us years to untangle it and to find a weak spot.”  
“I thought that you might have had a hand in it.” Sherrinford said. “But as Dad always said, once you find the weak spot, you have the advantage.” Mycroft nodded his head. Harry shifted a bit and lit a cigarette.  
“So, how did you end up in England?” she asked.  
“I was honest when I said I was in Switzerland. I was working for the CIA on a low-level op. I needed to come to England to tidy up a few investments for Moran. The moment I got off of the plane, my contact grabbed me, put me in a car, and drove me to some undisclosed location. I knew something was up but no one would tell me a thing. Moran had ordered me pulled out of the way; I don’t know if he knew he was in trouble or what. I just spent three days in a hotel room, watching crap television and eating cold beans. It sucked. My captors talked to Moran, or someone, daily. There was no call the day after you captured him. They grabbed me, put me in the trunk of the car, drove me out into the woods, and beat me. But it wasn’t a real beating. They were not thugs, more like babysitters, really. It took me three days to get to Sussex. I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I didn’t quite know how to find either of you without my computer or phone. So, I knew Dad and Martha would contact you.”  
John crossed his arms across his chest. “Have you checked on Isabella or Camilla?” he asked.  
“Not recently.” Sherrinford admitted. “I am afraid for them and for myself. I am scared that the cartel will come for me now.”  
“I can check on them.” Mycroft said.  
“Thank you.” Sherrinford looked at the floor for a moment. Sherlock looked at his brother and then at John. John was upset about something. He finally turned and looked at Sherlock. He walked across the room and grabbed his phone and keys.  
“I’m going for a walk.” He said, and left the flat.

*********************************************

 

Sherlock found John sitting on a bench in Regent’s Park around the corner from the flat. He sat down next to him and didn’t say a word.  
“I’m sorry.” John said in a whisper.  
“What are you sorry for?” Sherlock asked.  
“I was angry.”  
“I know. But I never did figure out about what.”  
“I was upset about finding out you had a brother you never mentioned, and that my wife had a brother she never mentioned. It’s foolish, but I felt that the whole world was hiding brothers from me. And that you never thought that it was important enough to tell me about it really hurt.”  
“I’m sorry for that. There are things in my life that I have never told you about. And it’s not that I’m hiding things from you. I forget that you can’t see inside my head.”  
“I don’t know that I want to get inside your head. I can tell things about you that you show me. But you need to tell me things.” John said. He put his hands on his knees. “But listening to Sherrinford’s tale… I got upset. He fell in love too. He has a daughter who is living and he’s putting her at risk. I have a daughter who is dead because her mother put her at risk. I can’t handle this any longer. I hate parents who put their children at risk for their gain. I hate it.”  
Sherlock knelt in front of John and gathered him in his arms. “I love you, John. And you know that I you would have been a fantastic father.”  
“Thank you. I love you too.” John settled into his hug. “I guess we should go home.”  
“I think that we should, too. I’m worried about what Mycroft is doing to our flat. There are probably bugs everywhere.” John smiled and chuckled a bit. They walked hand-in-hand back to Baker Street.

*******************************************

Mycroft told Sherrinford that he would do everything in his power to get Isabella and Camilla to a safe place. Sherrinford sat on pins and needles, tortured at not being able to be on the front lines to help his beloved. And he hated having his younger brother fix his problem; he was upset that way he had been manipulated by Moran and Moriarty; and he was in need of a fix of some kind. Mycroft and Harry had left the flat and Sherlock was out in search of John. Sherrinford decided that the least he could do was smoke a cigarette. He pulled a cigarette from the pack and climbed down the stairs to the street. He flicked let the silver lighter he still carried in his pocket to life. He took a deep drag and let the smoke fill his lungs. He pulled out the new mobile phone that he and John had purchased that afternoon and sent his brother a text message.  
“Going for a walk. Need to stretch. Be back soon.- Sherrinford.” He hit send and walked down the street.  
Sherlock’s phone buzzed with the message from Sherrinford. He and John turned the corner to Baker Street and went up to the flat. They busied themselves with cleaning up from dinner and settled into the sofa to watch television and wait for Sherrinford.  
Sherrinford came up the stairs an hour later and after a brief good night, went to the bedroom and shut the door.  
John found his hand in Sherlock’s curls as he rested his head in John’s lap. Sherlock’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and handed it to John who read the message.  
“Isabella and Camilla on a plane. Landing in the morning. They will be brought there. Read in Sherrinford in the morning.-MH”  
“Understood. –SH”  
Sherlock put his phone away. He settled his head again into John’s lap and smiled. “I guess our family just got a bit bigger. And we have a niece.”  
“That will be nice.” John said. Sherlock made a noise that could either be a yes or a no. John kissed him. “Let’s go to bed.” Sherlock smiled.  
“Yes, lets.”


	26. Spanish is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Sherrinford's Isabella his daughter. And there is a surprise in the beginning. An engagement!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I would like to first thank the academy... oops... sorry. Wrong speech. But I would like to thank my beta. MAFM you are the greatest. And after the next chapter, you deserve a break. That was a long one.  
> So, there are three chapters left to this part, including the one you are about to read. This one is a good length and the next is quite long. It's interesting. The last is shorter. But this part is coming to a close.  
> Enjoy and keep the comments coming!

Chapter 26- Spanish is Hard

Harry lay back in the bed, watching Mycroft dress. She was used to the morning routine now and she saw that the scars from his injuries were beginning to fade and turn from angry red to shell pink. She ran her hand through her hand.  
“How long until they arrive?” she asked.  
“They should have landed by now.” He said. He sat on the edge of the bed and she crawled over to him. She wrapped her warm arms around his waist and settled half onto his lap. “I hate leaving you in the morning.”  
“I hate letting you out of the bed.” She said and kissed him. “Myc, at some point we need to talk about our long-term plans.”  
“What specifically?” Mycroft asked, holding Harry on his lap by her ass.  
“Well, since I got out of rehab, I have either been staying with Sherlock and John or staying here. I need to get back to my flat. I need to get back to my life.”  
“Give up the flat.” Mycroft said.  
“And where will I live, darling?”  
“Here, of course. I thought you understood that.” He peppered her neck with kisses.  
“What? That you’ve decided that I should move in with you? Without talking to me?”  
“We are talking about it.” Mycroft said. Harry pulled away.  
“Not properly.”  
“Then we will.” Mycroft sat on the bed and gazed at Harry. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He was needed at work, but he didn’t want to put Harry second to his job. “Tell me what you would like.”  
“I don’t know.” She said.  
“Would you care to move in here? With me? To share my bed nightly?” he asked.  
“I would.”  
“Would you care to be mine?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“I love you, Harriet. I do not want to be apart from you. But you know I am not the easiest man to love with. I am not used to having to think about someone other than myself. I work, a lot. Sometimes I don’t come home for days. But, if you will take this all into consideration and you love me as you say you do, I would like nothing more than for you to be here. To be part of my life.” He stopped and rub his hand across his face. “I’m making a bloody mess of this.”  
“Of what?”  
“I didn’t want to do it this way. I had something more traditional in mind.”  
“More traditional? For what?” Harry asked, getting increasingly nervous.  
“Bloody hell, Harriet. I am asking you to marry me.” He said. Harry’s mouth dropped open.  
“Marry you?” she asked when she was able to form words again.  
“Yes.”  
“Mycroft.” Her voice was soft. “I wasn’t expecting this.”  
“I know.” He said. There was a silence between them for a moment. “I have noticed you haven’t said yes.”  
“I also haven’t said no.” she said hesitantly. “I want to say yes, Myc. I really do. But I don’t know that you really want me.” Her voice cracked.  
Mycroft pulled her into his arms. “You need time. I understand that. I can see that you need to think it over. But do not believe for one moment that I do not want you. I know what you come with. I know who you are. And I want you next to me for the rest of our lives.”  
“How am I to say no to that?” she asked. Mycroft wiped his thumb across her cheek, pulling away the tear.  
“You aren’t. But if you need incentive…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. He opened the lid and pulled out a ring with a single, glittering diamond.  
“Yes.” It was a whisper and Mycroft almost missed it. “God, yes.” Mycroft’s face broke out into one of his rare genuine smiles that he gave to her as he kissed her deeply.  
“I love you.” He said.  
“I love you, too. And as much as I want to take you to bed, I know that our guests have arrived. I need to get to the office before Anthea breaks down the door and drags me out. We will celebrate, my darling. But I need to go.” Harry laughed quietly and after a moment her laugh got louder and deeper. “What is so funny?”  
“We are.” She said. She stopped laughing for a moment and kissed him. “Go on. Get to work. I’ll see you later.”  
“Goodbye, my love.” He said. He pulled on his jacket and after a look back at the bed, he left the house. Harry lay on the bed, looking at her ring in its box, a smile on her face.

***************************************

Sherlock started the shower and John put on the kettle. He was trying to make as little noise as possible, as Sherrinford hadn’t made it known if he was up or not yet. He put two slices of bread in the toaster and pulled down two mugs.  
“Tea?” he asked.   
“No thanks. Hate the stuff.” Sherrinford said. He laughed a bit. “Either you are as good as my brothers or you have eyes in the back of your head.”  
“Living with Sherlock has indeed taught me a few things.” John said with a smirk.  
“I hope this isn’t too awkward for you.” Sherrinford said. John handed him the toast and put two more slices in the toaster.  
“It’s fine.” John said. “I’m used to my life being anything but normal.”  
“How long have you and Sherlock been together?” Sherrinford asked as he bit into his toast. John laughed.  
“Depends on what you are defining as together.”  
“Traditional.”  
“Wow. Well, ah, I guess about six months. Since after my wife’s funeral.”  
“I am sorry about that.”  
“Thank you.” John heard the car door close before the doorbell ring and the door open. He knew it was Mycroft. “Mycroft.” He said.  
Sherrinford nodded and headed into his room to dress. John opened the door to the bathroom. Sherlock was shaving.  
“They’re here.” He said as he handed Sherlock his tea. He gave him a quick peck on his shoulder and shut the door. John went into the sitting room. Mycroft was standing in the middle with Anthea and a beautiful Latina woman and an adorable little girl.  
“Mycroft. An.” John said, kissing her cheek.   
“Good morning, John.” She said. Sherlock made a dash upstairs to dress.  
“John, this is Isabella and Camilla.” Mycroft said. “My brother?”  
“Is dressing.” John said.  
“May I speak to you privately, for a moment?” John nodded and headed into the kitchen. He heard Anthea speaking to Isabella in a low volume of Spanish.  
“What can I do for you?” John asked.  
“I wanted to let you know that I asked Harry to marry me this morning. She has consented.”  
“Shit.” John said with a large smile. “That’s… what the… shit.”  
“And have you broken my John?” Sherlock asked, coming behind John and wrapping his arms around him.  
“I have not broken him, brother mine. I am merely informing him that I am marrying his sister.” Mycroft said with a smirk. Sherlock laughed.  
“Finally found a goldfish of your own.”  
“Shut it. Both of you.” John said. Sherlock hugged him tightly.   
“Does anyone find it odd that my brothers are dating a brother and sister?” Sherrinford said as he walked into the kitchen. “Congratulations, Mycroft.” He said clapping his brother on the shoulder. His eyes drifted to the sitting room and he froze.  
“Howard?” Asked a voice from across the room. Sherrinford headed into the sitting room and gathered her small frame into his arms.   
“Isabella. Isabella.” Sherrinford repeated over and over again. He held her close and she began to cry.  
“I thought I would never see you again.” She said. Camilla tugged on her mother’s skirt.  
“Mama.” She said. “I’m hungry.”  
“Is this… Camilla?” Sherrinford stuttered.  
“Camilla.” Isabella said, her accented English crisp, “This is your father. Say hello.”  
“Papa?” Camilla asked. Sherrinford came down on his knees to look at her. His eyes were wet with tears.  
“Oh, Mycroft.” He said. “How can I ever repay you for this?” he asked. Sherrinford gathered his daughter in his arms and held her close. John cleared his throat.  
“Coffee?” he asked. Sherrinford smiled and nodded. He led Isabella to the sofa. They sat down and began to talk in low voices.  
“Mycroft, I need to go. Greg has been texting me for over an hour. I will meet you at the office later.” Anthea said. Mycroft nodded his head.   
“Dinner at the house tonight. I will have Isabella and Camilla staying there. Sherrinford also if he would like. Invite Molly and Rob. I think our little family needs a happy night. Harry would love to show off her ring, I am sure.”  
“I will arrange it all.” Anthea said as she kissed each of them goodbye, she was out the door.  
“I am afraid that I too need to get to work. Please, both of you come and see me at the house later. Before dinner. I think the four of us need to talk.” Sherlock nodded and John began to make a pot of coffee. “And John, I do hope that you will forgive me.”  
“For what?” he asked.  
“For not asking for her hand first.” John laughed.   
“It’s her second marriage and Clara didn’t ask the first time either. But, I guess if I can marry your brother, you can marry my sister.” John said. Sherlock smirked. John came near Mycroft and pulled him into a hug. “You hurt her; I will let Sherlock kill you.” Mycroft hugged him back.   
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Mycroft said. He let go of John and went into the sitting room.  
He spoke to Isabella and Sherrinford for a moment and took his leave. John leaned against the counter.  
“Engaged.” John said. “That, I didn’t see coming.”  
“I’m not at all surprised.” Sherlock said. “But I am confused by the fact you said you were marrying me. You haven’t said yes anytime I’ve asked.”  
“But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t thought about it.” He pulled Sherlock closer and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. He smiled as he heard Sherrinford clear his throat in the doorway.  
“Sorry to interrupt. But, is there anything to eat in this flat?” John laughed and Sherlock went to the desk and his laptop.  
“Camilla’s hungry.” John said. Sherrinford nodded. “Camilla, Isabella.” John called them into the kitchen.  
“Yes?” Isabella asked. John extended his hand.  
“I’m John. Sherrinford’s… well, I’m John.” He said. Isabella shook his hand. John looked at his new niece and smiled.  
“You live in America right?” he asked her. She nodded her long chestnut brown pig tails bobbing with the movement. Her bright green eyes wide with questions. “You can call me Uncle John. I will be soon enough. And I have something…” he groped in the cupboard and pulled out a box. “That I think you will like.” He opened the box with a flourish and pulled out a package of Pop tarts. Her eyes lit up at the sight of them and her smile was wide.  
“Look Mama! They have Pop Tarts here!” she said. She took the package and ran back to the sofa. She sat for a moment and came back to the kitchen. “Gracias, Uncle John.” He smiled and patted her head and she ran back to eat.  
“I can make an omelet, if you like.” John said, pouring coffee. “Are you eating too, dear?” he asked after Sherlock. Sherlock merely grunted in his direction.  
“Thank you, John.” Isabella said. She sat down with her coffee at the kitchen table, face filled with relief and anxiety simultaneously. Sherrinford sat next to her and took her hand in his.   
“This must all be a bit much for you.” John said, pulling out the things he needed to cook from the refrigerator. Isabella nodded.   
“You are Howard’s, I mean Sherrinford’s brother’s husband? Yes?” she asked. John smiled.  
“Sherlock and I are not married, yet.” He said. “You look tired. Why don’t I get you sorted with something to eat and then you can go lie down on the bed in the extra room. I’ll keep an eye on Camilla for a while. Maybe take her to the park. Later we will all go to Mycroft’s.”  
“That sounds nice.” She said. She ran a slender hand through her well-coiffed black hair. Her brown eyes watched John cook. “Thank you.”   
John heard the footfalls on the stairs. John went into the sitting room and turned on the tellie for Camilla, finding some early morning children’s program. She settled into watching it when Mrs. Hudson came into the kitchen.  
“Sherrinford, how are you… oh my. Isabella.” She said. She stopped in her tracks. Her face was full of concern. “I never thought I would see you again, my dear. And Camilla?”  
“In the sitting room, Mrs. Hudson.” Isabella said. She got up and hugged her hard. Mrs. Hudson’s face was a torment of emotions: anger, fear, and love. “I can’t believe you are here.”  
“I own this building.” She said. She picked up the knife John had been using and began chopping absently, keeping her hands busy. “What on earth are you doing here?”  
“It’s a long story.” Sherrinford answered. “I will tell you, in full, later. Sherlock, do you think it would be alright if I invited Mrs. Hudson with us this evening?”  
“That will be fine.” Sherlock said. He was watching Camilla enjoy the frosted pastry and watching the television. John leaned on the door frame for a moment, since Mrs. Hudson had taken over the kitchen. He crossed the room and rested on the edge of the desk.  
“All right then?” John asked.  
“Fine.”  
“You know, in the service, there was a mantra about the word fine. We used to say that it meant fucked, insecure, neurotic and evasive. So, are you really fine?” John said.  
“Yup.” He answered, popping the letter p. Camilla started to giggle at the television and the conversation was going on in the kitchen.  
“Okay, than. Do you want to spend the day with me here, helping with Camilla or do you want to go see Mycroft? Or Greg? Or check on Molly?” Sherlock shook his head.  
“I will stay with you. I want to see what Sherrinford has up his sleeve.” John nodded.  
“Then come and eat. We will speak to Mycroft later.”  
“Uncle John?” a little voice asked. “May I have a glass of milk?”  
John smiled. “Of course, sweetheart.” John gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek and went to get Camilla some milk.  
“What is your name?” she asked. Sherlock turned his head to find her standing next to him by the desk.  
“Sherlock.”  
“Are you my uncle too?” Sherlock nodded his head tentatively. “Good. Do you speak Spanish?” Sherlock nodded again. “Does Uncle John?”  
John handed her a glass. “No. Spanish is hard for me.” Camilla giggled and Sherlock smiled.


	27. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay- so this one is LOOOONG. I know that and it was hard to write. It is something different from the way I have been writing and with encouragement from my favorite beta - mafm (who really rocks...) I went for it. But, there are a few things that I took a liberty with.  
> I am American. I have never been to England and I know I could have researched a piece of this some, but to be honest I couldn't be arsed.   
> So, please, if anyone knows the real ways to go about this in England... I would love to know at least for my own edification.  
> We know that Mycroft asked Harry to marry him. So, please excuse all the information about the prenup and the way the titles work. Part of me really thinks it would be cool to have things like lords and dukes in America. It's sooooo European and I would love to say that I am Lady so and so... but not in the cards.   
> One more chapter after this and then on to part three. So now, I'm going to hit post, because I really need to start writing part three.

Chapter 27- Dinner

Molly received a text message from Anthea while she and Rob were on their way to physical therapy. She read the message and informed Rob, “we have been invited to Mycroft’s for dinner this evening.” Her hand rested on her belly as it was her new habit. “It will be lovely to see everyone without any threats hanging over our heads.”  
“That it will.” Rob said. He took Molly’s hand in his own and squeezed it. “How are you feeling, love?”  
“I’m okay.” She said. “I’m more worried about you.”  
“I’m fine. My pain is tolerable. I actually feel pretty good, for the most part.”  
“That’s good.”  
Molly waited for Rob while he was working on regaining his range of motion and strength in his shoulder. Molly sat in the chair, knitting an unidentifiable baby object. She had taken some time off of work to help Rob until he healed and to allow herself some time to get used to the idea of a baby. She put her knitting down to enter the dates of Rob’s next three physical therapy appointments into her phone. She was working a month ahead when she noticed another entry in her calendar – John’s birthday. She smiled to herself and wondered if Sherlock would remember it. She made a mental note to talk to him about it later that evening.  
Rob and Molly had settled into a bit of a domestic routine, even after just a few days of living together. She still had boxes to unpack and things to sort, but there was a natural flow to their life. Molly put down her bag and went to make tea.  
“What do you think this evening is all about?” Rob asked as he settled on the sofa.  
“I’m not sure, but we will find out soon enough.” Molly smiled and kissed Rob as she handed him a cuppa.  
When Molly and Rob arrived at Mycroft’s house later that evening, they found everyone gathered on the back patio. They walked through the house and found Harry sitting in a chair and Mycroft speaking to John at the edge of the patio. Harry was speaking to a little girl.  
“Hello, Harry.” Molly said as she bent to kiss her cheek.  
“Molly. Rob. So good to see you.” Harry said. “May I present Mycroft and Sherlock’s niece, Camilla?”  
“Very nice to meet you Camilla.” Molly said extending her hand. She gave Harry a look of question. Harry mouthed “Later” and Molly nodded.   
“Camilla this is my friend Molly. And her boyfriend Rob is over there talking to Uncle John.” Camilla nodded and ran off to chase some bubbles she was blowing.  
Molly took the seat next to Harry. “Niece?” she asked.  
“Yes. There is another brother. Older than Myc.” Harry whispered.   
“Another one?” Molly said with disbelief.  
“Yes, I know. I was shocked, too. He has a girlfriend of sorts. And Camilla is their daughter.” Harry explained.  
“So, is tonight an initiation into the family?” Molly asked. Harry shook her head.   
“Not entirely. Part of it is to announce our engagement.” She said and sipped her tonic water.  
“Engagement?!” Molly squealed.  
“Yes. Myc asked me this morning.” Harry said with her face beaming.  
“Congratulations.” Molly said.  
Rob looked across the patio to where Molly was talking to Harry. John said something to him that he missed. “Sorry, I missed that.”  
“I said, Molly looks happy.” John said with a smile. “How are you?”  
“I’m good. Still hurts like a bitch, but good.” Rob said. “You holding up?”  
“I am. It’s been a crazy couple of days. I find out that Sherlock has another brother and that my sister is marrying Mycroft. But other than that… you know. Just normal stuff.” Rob’s face was priceless. A perfect face of horror. John started to laugh. “Wondering if you can back out of this now?”  
“Something like that.” Rob said, his face resuming normal function again.  
“Trust me, mate. You are part of this now; no going back.” John clamped his hand down on his good shoulder and laughed.  
Rob wandered over to where Molly was standing at the edge of the patio, watching Camilla play in the yard.  
“That will our daughter someday.” Rob said as he nuzzled her neck.  
“Yes.”  
“There is something more going on here tonight than meets the eye, isn’t there?” Rob asked. Molly nodded her head.  
“I’m not sure what though. I have a feeling it has more to do with this new brother and his girlfriend than with the capture of Moran or the engagement.” Rob murmured his agreement. “I mean, it’s odd. We are no longer in danger but they wanted us all together at the spur of the moment. And we haven’t seen the brother or his girlfriend yet.”  
“That is odd. And where are Sherlock and Greg?” Rob asked. And as if he appeared magically whenever Sherlock’s name was mentioned, John walked up to them.  
“John, where are Sherlock and Greg? And will we get to meet this mysterious older brother and his girlfriend?” Molly asked. John chuckled.  
“Greg and Sherlock are on a case. They sent me a text not that long ago that they were on their way here. Sherrinford and Isabella are talking out a few things. I think Anthea is on the phone somewhere, and Mrs. Hudson is in the kitchen.”  
“So, that’s everyone then.” Molly said. John smiled.  
“That’s our little family.” John said with a laugh. Molly noticed that Rob was uncomfortable standing and gently guided him to a chair, so that he felt like it was his idea.   
Molly noticed when Greg and Sherlock arrived; they were both in good moods and joking with each other. She smiled warmly as Sherlock sent her a little wave and watched him interact with Camilla.   
“He looks like a natural with her.” Rob commented.  
“Still doesn’t mean we are letting him babysit.” Molly said with a laugh. Anthea joined the group on the patio with a bottle of sparkling cider, and Mrs. Hudson followed with a tray of glasses. Rob and Molly joined them and toasted Mycroft and Harry’s engagement. Mrs. Hudson announced that dinner was ready and sent Sherlock in search of his still missing brother and his girlfriend.  
Molly was seated at the table and was comfortably conversing with Rob, Greg, and Anthea when she noticed a change in the room. Sherlock had joined them at the table and was whispering to John. John’s face was drawn tight and he nodded several times. Mycroft turned his face towards them as well and John shook his head. Mycroft put on a fake smile while Harry shifted a bit in her seat and resumed talking to Mrs. Hudson.  
Molly looked down at her plate and as she tilted her head back up, she noticed a man and a woman had slipped into the empty chairs. Greg was shaking the man’s hand and smiling at the woman. Molly looked at the man. He must have been the other brother. Sherrinford. He had the same light colored eyes as Mycroft and Sherlock, his nose was less angular, but there was the same set of the jaw. The same angles, but they were softer. His hair was more grey than black and Molly could see the family resemblance. And the woman was beautiful, strangely exotic and foreign. Molly recalled her name was Isabella and noticed that she spoke with an accent - Spanish of some soft. Her hair was of a medium length and well styled. But there was fear and fatigue in her face. But when she looked at Camilla or Sherrinford, there was light and life in her dark eyes. She was voluptuous. That was the only word Molly could find that would describe her.  
“You must be Molly and Rob.” Sherrinford said from across the table.   
“Yes.” Rob answered. “It’s nice to meet you.” Molly smiled.  
“Isabella? Correct?” Molly asked. Isabella smiled.  
“Yes. That is correct.”  
“Your accent is lovely.” Molly said. “Where are you from?”  
“I was born in Colombia. But we have been in Miami for years now.” Molly nodded.  
“I went to Florida once when I was younger.” Rob knitted his brow at her. “Some friends and I went on a holiday during medical training. We went to Disneyworld.”  
“I love Disneyworld.” Camilla said. Molly smiled and talked to her of the rides and the virtues of Mickey Mouse. Rob fell into easy conversation with Sherrinford and Greg, discussing the nuances of American baseball.  
Rob tired easily still and Molly suggested they go home after a wonderful dinner and even more wonderful dessert of chocolate cake. They said their goodbyes and Molly sat behind the wheel of Rob’s car.  
“That was a lovely evening.” Rob said, the pain medication making him drowsy as she drove.  
“It was. I quite like Sherrinford. Not as pompous as Mycroft or as snide as Sherlock.” She said. Rob laughed.  
“Finally seen the true man behind the mask?” Molly laughed. Rob loved to poke lovingly at Molly about her crush on Sherlock.  
“I have. But then again, I have one that I love more than I could have ever imagined.” Rob smiled and took Molly’s hand in his own.  
“Then you should marry him.” Rob said.  
“Maybe one day.” She said. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Molly smiled and took them home.

******************************************

Anthea left her flat and went to meet Greg for a coffee before he went into the station. She sent text message invitations for dinner, and then conversed with Harry about the menu and the guest list. Her car pulled up in front of the café, and she climbed out of the back and walked into the restaurant, her fingers still flying over her phone. Greg was already sitting at a table and she leaned down to kiss him while she was still typing at her phone.  
“Hello, darling.” She said as she sat down, her eyes never leaving her screen.  
“If I wasn’t more secure in my manhood, I would be worried about the amount of time you spend with that electronic device.” Greg said with a laugh.  
“I’m working.” She said with a smile. “Give me two more minutes; then I have so much to catch you up with before you go to work.”  
Anthea finished her texting, put down her phone on the table and looked at Greg.  
“So, what do you have to tell me?” he asked.  
“Well, I haven’t been allowed to tell you much yet. You have found out about the other Holmes brother already. Last night I got a call from Mycroft about finding the brother’s girlfriend and their daughter. So I managed to get them on a flight from Miami that came in early this morning. I just left them at Baker Street. And Mycroft wants everyone to the house tonight for dinner, including you, Molly, and Rob. He wants an informal engagement party for him and Harry.”  
“Oi!” Greg said, quite shocked. “They are getting married? When did that happen?”  
“This morning apparently. He asked, she said yes. Plus, I think he wants to show his older brother that they are just fine without him in their lives, but that if he is going to really be a part the family then he needs to embrace the whole family - not just parents in Sussex.” Anthea said as she sipped her coffee. Greg noticed the frantic clacking of her pink nails on the table top and wondered if she had been to sleep at all, and if she was mainlining coffee.  
“Have you slept?” he asked. Anthea’s eyes were glassy and her face was pursed.   
“A bit at some point.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’ll sleep tonight, hopefully in bed with you.”  
“That’s a great idea. One of the best you’ve had.” He said. “But you need to eat, too.” He signaled for the waiter and she ordered a breakfast. Greg looked at his watch.  
“I have twenty more minutes before I have to go. Where are you working today?” he asked, holding her hand across the table in an attempt to still it.  
“This morning I am at the main office then I am going to the house with Mycroft. I have a meeting set up to start to draw up all the paperwork for the wedding. I know that they are not that they aren’t getting married tomorrow, but it will take time to set up the pre-nup and the all the rest of the paperwork.”  
“Pre-nup. That’s going to hurt.”  
“Well, the Holmes’ are worth a lot. There needs to be protection for the land and titles and not just the money. And technically, there needs to be approval for the title.”  
“Title? Lands? How much money are we talking about?” Lestrade asked. He knew that Mycroft and Sherlock acted like money wasn’t an object, but he didn’t know how well off they actually were.  
“The family is landed gentry. There was an estate that Mycroft sold back to the Empire a few years back with the retention of the titles. They are from Martha’s side of the family so Sherrinford has no claim. I think it’s a Lord or something. I don’t really pay attention to it, as neither do they. And you know that Sherlock has been offered or I should say threatened with a knighthood on more than one occasion. I know that Mycroft is worth in the neighborhood of €19 million himself and Sherlock has about €9 million left in his trust fund that I manage. And I brought that up after his initial university days from € 1. He burned through about € 8 million.”  
“That’s some neighborhood. Does John know what he’s worth?” Greg asked.  
“Nope.” Her food arrived and she started shoveling it in. “Sherlock doesn’t care about it. Mycroft is better and he has asked that we don’t advertise it, but not deny it either. Sherlock has his own accounts that John has access to.” She swallowed her mouth full. “But I don’t know. I don’t think money is that important to him. It’s not to me.”  
“I know money is not an issue to you. But you make more than I do and I work for the Met.” He looked at his watch. “Which reminds me, I have to get to work. I’ll see you tonight at Mycroft’s.” He got up from the table and bent down to kiss her. She smiled and continued to chew.  
“I’ll text you later.” She said and went back to her phone in one hand and fork in the other.  
Lestrade was walking into the lobby of NYS when his mobile rang in his pocket. He fished it out and answered it with a grunt.  
“Don’t bother getting into the lift. We have a case.” Donovan said into his ear. He stepped out of the lift and walked towards the door, itching for a cigarette.  
“What kind?”  
“Homicide, of course. A couple of punks found a body on the shore. Been there a day or two from what the scene reports. But there are some interesting markings on body.”  
“What kind of markings?”  
“We will have to see for ourselves. This might be a case for the freak.” She said, almost elated at going out on a case.  
“Fine. But I need to wrap this up by dinner. I have plans tonight.” He rang off when he saw her within talking distance.  
“Dinner with the super woman again?” she asked, chiding him.   
“Yes. And the Holmes brothers. And Molly Hooper.” He said, climbing back into his car.  
“Your little family away from home. So quaint.” She snarked.  
“Donovan, shut it.” They drove in silence to the crime scene.  
Thirty minutes later, they both knew they were out of their depth and Lestrade climbed into his car. It was time for him to get away from Donovan for a bit and he admitted that he could have just called Sherlock, but he wanted to meet the other brother, too. Curiosity was getting to him.  
Lestrade pulled up to Baker Street and knocked on the door. He let himself in and climbed up to the sitting room on the second floor. John was sitting on the floor with a beautiful dark haired girl, playing some board game. Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen working on an experiment.  
“Where?” Sherlock asked. John kept his attention on the game, but Lestrade could tell he was listening.  
“Thames. By Waterloo.”  
“How many?”  
“One.”  
“And what has you so perplexed?” Lestrade shook his head and looked at the young girl.  
“I’ll tell you when you get there.” He said. Sherlock shot a look to John. John excused himself for a moment and stood to join them in the kitchen.  
“I’m sorry John, but I really need the help.” Lestrade said.  
“And you came all this way because you were hoping to meet Sherrinford.” Sherlock observed.  
“I’ll admit that I am curious.” Greg shrugged.  
“He and Isabella are sleeping. We were meant to watch Camilla for a while.” John said. “But, Sherlock, you go. I’ll stay here and meet you both at Mycroft’s later.” Greg nodded.  
“We will be there.” He said forcefully. Sherlock stood, grabbing his keys and his phone. He stopped and kissed John on the lips. John smiled and shook his head. They left the flat and ran towards stopping crime.  
Anthea walked into her office, still typing on her phone. She put it down on her desk and picked up her iPad, exchanging the actions on one device for the exact actions on the other. She was going a mile a minute while walking into Mycroft’s office. She sat in her normal place, her normal seat, and waited for him to acknowledge her. But he was silent. She set down the tablet and went to the edge of the desk. She looked at him and smiled. He was in his head, but the smile on his face was unmistakable. He was happy. She gave his shoulder a gentle shove and looked at his reaction.  
“Oi. If I have to be here to work, then so do you.” She said. He laughed a bit, and it was his real laugh - throaty and deep. It was rare that she heard it and she loved it.  
“Okay. I understand. So, where are we?” Anthea picked up her tablet and reviewed the various pieces of information that needed attention.  
“And the attorney will be here in twenty minutes with the pre-nup and the other papers you need to begin to review before the wedding. Have you told Harry about any of it?” she asked. His fairly straight face broke and he looked upset.  
“I had forgotten all about it.” He spit. He didn’t like thinking about the obligations and he had to deal with it at some point. “I guess that is something we will need to discuss at some point. Please get Sherlock on the line. I think he and I need to discuss telling John as well. It’s time.” She nodded and handed him her phone.  
“Sherlock. We need to talk.” Mycroft said.  
“I am at a crime scene. Please dispense with bothering me while I am working.” Sherlock spat.  
“This will take but a moment since you already know who killed that poor man and that the markings were nothing more than a gang initiation.” Mycroft looked at the photos on the tablet that Anthea was holding for him.   
“Fine. What is it?”  
“With my impending wedding, we need to tell Harry and John about the title, the money and the rest. It’s time.”  
“I don’t want to deal with it. You tell them. I don’t care about any of it.”  
“If that’s what you would like, I will tell them both this afternoon. I have to begin to prepare Harry for the lawyers.” Mycroft drawled. “I will fill in both of them at once.”  
“Efficient of you. Laters.” Sherlock rang off. Mycroft looked at Anthea.   
“Please have Harry meet me at the club for lunch as well as Dr. Watson. Have Sherrinford and his family brought to the estate to meet you. We will join you there later.” Anthea nodded and left the room. She went to her own desk and made quick work of her tasks while Mycroft attended to his own work.

Anthea sat in her seat in the car, working her phone. Anthea closed out her email and brought up her texting app.   
“What are you doing? –A”  
“Watching Sherlock beat up my staff. You?-GL”  
“Riding in the car. I will be at Mycroft’s shortly. Missing you, mostly.-A”  
“I met Camilla earlier-GL”  
“She’s cute, isn’t she? I don’t trust Sherrinford, though.- A”  
“Not many seem to. John sent me a text yesterday about it all. He wanted to know if I knew anyone who could rush a DNA sample since Molly was out. I told him who and he never said another word. Strange. –GL”  
“I could have told you we already did that. He’s a Holmes. But there is something else… Mycroft is having lunch with Harry and John. To fill them in on the money and the title and the rest.-A”  
“To be a fly on that wall. Sorry, got to go. Sherlock is off on something and John will kill me if I let him do something more stupid than usual. Love you.-GL”  
“Love you too. See you for dinner.-A”  
Greg cursed out loud as he chased after Sherlock. He wasn’t in the mood to run after geniuses all day. Sherlock finally stopped when he had lost sight of the man they were chasing.  
“I told you to get the car.” Sherlock said. Lestrade pointed to Donovan in the car at the far end of the road. Sherlock nodded and ran to the vehicle.  
“Can you tell me why you were chasing him?” Lestrade said in a panting breath. His hands were on his knees.  
“He had the knife that was used for the symbols.” Sherlock said as if it was the most logical statement in the world. “Most likely picked it up off the ground.”  
“Sherlock. They have him. We know who did it. Why don’t we go question him?” Greg offered. Sherlock shrugged and let Lestrade get behind the wheel. Sally climbed into the back of the car and Sherlock settled into the front. He played with his phone all the way back to the office and only stopped when he opened the door to the room where the killer was being held.  
Greg stood back and let Sherlock work on him, and only after thirty minutes had a full, usable confession to convict him with. Greg looked at his watch.  
“Sherlock, if you stay here, right now, we can get the paperwork done in about twenty minutes. We can be at Mycroft’s within an hour. We won’t be too late.”  
“That is acceptable. I do not plan on coming back here later today or tomorrow.” Greg nodded. He was taking the day off tomorrow himself.  
Later, Greg stood with his pen in his hand, looking over the last of the paperwork. Sherlock had been texting for ten minutes on and off and Greg thought they were done. He put the pen down and Sherlock was on his feet.  
“Leave the car. Mycroft has sent one for us.” Greg shook his head and left the office in Sherlock’s wake.  
Anthea was finishing up on the phone when Mycroft came into the office. She put down the phone and looked at him.  
“I have instructed the office that you and I are unreachable for the next twelve hours. And you will not be in tomorrow.” He said. Anthea looked towards the door and noticed it was shut. They were alone.  
“Mycroft, are you ill?” she asked, genuinely concerned.  
“I am fine. You and I both need to spend the day with the people we care about. So, we are off duty. Go home with Greg tonight. Enjoy a day off. But know there will be twice as much work the next day.” She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek before joining him on the patio.  
Dinner was a lovely affair, but a bit strained. Sherrinford and Isabella were pleasant enough, but both Anthea and Greg could see their very presence was causing stress on the family. It was uncomfortable at times and Anthea was concerned about what Mycroft was thinking. She reached under the table and gave Greg’s hand a squeeze. He looked at her and gave a subtle nod.  
Shortly after Molly and Rob left, Anthea and Greg too went home. They leaned back in the car and neither of them spoke for a while.  
“All right then?” he asked. Anthea turned toward him and smiled, her face tired.  
“You off tomorrow?” she asked. He nodded. “Me too. Sleep first. Then we spend the entire day in bed.”  
“Sounds brilliant.” He said. “I don’t trust the sod.”  
“Neither do I. But she is a love. Very sweet. But there is a steel edge to her too. I think they are well matched and after a bit, she might put him in his place.”  
“That will be good. Sherlock clearly hates him.” Greg said. Anthea nodded and rested her head against his shoulder.  
“No more talk of them. When do the boys come?” she asked. Greg wrapped his arms around her and they spoke of his children and their upcoming plans all the way home.

*************************************

Mycroft sat at his desk and read through the case files that he needed to update himself on. He wasn’t really focusing on the papers in front of him. He was drifting in and out of thought, thinking about how much his life had changed in the last few months and how much he loved Harry. He thought about the sudden appearance of his brother and how much he needed the break from watching over Sherlock and how John gave him that opportunity to do so.  
Mycroft was so deep in thought, he never heard Anthea come into the office. It wasn’t until she nudged him that he was shaken from his thoughts. He smiled at her.  
“We have a lot to accomplish today.” Anthea nodded and Mycroft went over all the different things he needed Anthea to do. She updated him on open files and they set their agenda for the day. Anthea reminded him that he had an appointment with the lawyer and he chewed on his lip and asked Anthea to arrange the lunch for him after he spoke to Sherlock.  
Harry lay on the bed, looking at her diamond engagement ring for a while. Her mind whirled at the thoughts of being someone’s wife again and all the different innuendos that went along with it. But this was going to be different, she thought. She was sober. Mycroft never asked anything of her. She didn’t have to do anything. And she wondered where she had gone wrong in other marriage that made her drink. She looked at her watch and decided that she would call Clara.  
Clara answered on the first ring. “What is it now?” her tone snarky and rushed.  
“Hello to you too.” Harry said. She smiled.  
“Sorry, Har. I thought you were someone else. I didn’t recognize the number.” Harry bit her lip. She had forgotten about the fact her phone was new. “New number?”  
“Yes. Long story. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Harry asked.  
“I don’t. Want to meet for coffee in half an hour? I can give you some time then. Plus I need to get out of the office.” Clara offered.  
“Sure. But make it forty minutes. I need a shower and it will take me nearly half an hour to meet you.” They confirmed their plans and Harry ran into the shower. While she was soaping up, she heard her phone ring repeatedly. Hurrying out, she saw the missed texts were from Anthea regarding plans for dinner. Harry answered the messages with one hand as she dressed and ran a brush across her teeth and through her hair. She continued texting in the back of the car once she was on the road to meet Clara.  
Clara had arrived at the little coffee bar first. It was their go to place and neither of them had to say where they were going to meet; hey both knew. Clara was sitting at the table, their table, in a smart black suit with just a hint of emerald green at her breast. She was wearing her brown hair up in a knot and she looked as lovely today as she did the first time Harry met her in university. She was tall and slender. Harry smiled at her and she waved a hand. She had already ordered for both of them. They kissed hello before Harry settled into the seat.  
“You look good.” Clara said, with a bit of resentment in her voice.   
“I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know why it seems to be sticking this time. But I do hate how I treated you.” Clara waved her hand in the air.  
“It sucks. I love you. I really do. But in the end, neither of us were good for each other.” She said. Harry nodded.   
“How are you?”  
“I’m good. I’ve been seeing someone. I really like the person.” Clara said. “You?”  
“Interesting.”   
“What?”  
“You, not using a gender. ‘The person.’ Not her, or him. Afraid to tell me something?” Harry asked with a laugh as she picked up her coffee to drink.  
“Well… that is very astute of you. Yes. I have been seeing a man. I like him. It’s all a bit of fun. But what about you? There is something different.” Harry nodded.  
“I too have been seeing a man. He asked me to marry him this morning. And I said yes.” Clara nearly spit her coffee across the table.  
“Man? Married? This morning?” she was flabbergasted and didn’t know how to make heads or tails of it. “When did all this happen?”  
“Myc and I started seeing each other when I was in rehab. He was the one who helped me get in. And well, it developed from there. I have been living with him in a way for weeks now. It’s been good.”  
“Myc?”  
“Mycroft.”  
“Holmes?” Clara’s mouth was open and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Her phone sent out a ping of a text. She smiled sheepishly and looked at the message.  
“Yes. Please excuse me. I don’t want to be rude, but I must answer this.” She said. Clara nodded a moment and took the time to regain her composure.  
Harry read her text. She was being summoned to the club to lunch with her brother. There was something that Mycroft wanted to discuss with them both.   
“Should I be worried?- HW”  
“Not at all. Just information that you both need to know if you are both going to be in the Holmes family. Your car will pick up John on your way. I’m trying to get M to tell all the family secrets, but it’s not working. See you at dinner tonight, but if you need to talk, call me. –A”  
Harry pursed her lips. There was something in Anthea’s offer to talk if she needed to, that was making her nervous. But Clara cleared her throat and Harry smiled.  
“Sorry. One more text. Then, back to your love life.”  
“Nope. Talking about yours. Put the phone down. You can text when I am done interrogating you.” Clara said with a laugh. The conversation was more relaxed.  
“Yes. Of course. He’s most likely working now anyway. I have been summoned for lunch.” Harry said.  
Clara and Harry talked for the better part of an hour, ignoring Clara’s need to get back to work. They both stood and gave each other a hug and kiss.  
“Promise me that we will still talk now and again.” Clara said.  
“Of course. I was married to you. And you didn’t try to kill me.” Harry said with a smile. “I do love you. But I am sorry that I couldn’t stay sober for you.”  
“I know. I love you too. And to answer the question that I know you called me about in the first place, I don’t know why you did it when we were together but you aren’t now. Maybe we are too much alike or that you were angry about something or my job or your job or one million different things. It doesn’t matter. We were happy. We weren’t happy. We are now. Go. Have lunch with lover boy. And give that love of a brother a kiss for me. Tell him to call me and we will all do drinks or something sometime in the future. Before the wedding.” Harry kissed her again and walked out to her car.  
Harry watched John climb into the car and she smiled as he settled into the seat.  
“I just left Clara. We had coffee.” She said as he leaned into kiss his sister.  
“Good chat?” he asked. She nodded her head.   
“It was good. In a lot of ways.” She waved her hand in the air. John caught it and whistled low at the size of the diamond on it. “I know. It’s a lot.”  
“Ice skating rinks are smaller.” He said. “Congratulations.”  
“Thanks. I want to see yours soon.” She chided.  
“It’s not like he hasn’t asked. I’ve just said no.” Harry nodded. “So, what do you suppose we are going to be told? That there is three more siblings in the Far East? Clones in a facility in Antarctica? Some form of a test we need to pass with some crazy elderly aunt before we can be married to these two?” Harry laughed.  
“I have no idea.”  
Mycroft sat at the table in the club room, reading the afternoon paper. He wasn’t sure how he was going to tell the Watson siblings what he needed to, but it had to be done. He was angry with his brother for not wanting to be a part of the conversation, but he needed to be honest with both of them. Since there was a lot riding on their future relationships, he needed to make sure they understood what was going to be expected of them.  
Harry and John walked into the room, arm in arm, looking like a couple of twins. They were good looking people and Mycroft found his chest puffing out a bit with pride as others looked at them.  
“Coffee with Clara went well, then?” Mycroft asked as Harry kissed him hello. Harry’s face screwed up in question and John’s laugh could be heard from where he sat down.  
“Get used to it. Don’t question it unless you really want the long answer.” John said. Harry shrugged and sat down herself.  
“It went well. She sends her love and congratulations.” Harry told him.  
“So, Mycroft, not that I don’t enjoy a good free lunch, why don’t we get down to business. What is this all about? And will my boyfriend be joining us?” John asked. Mycroft took a sip of his wine and shook his head.  
“No. Sherlock has decided that as the eldest of the two of us, that it is my duty to tell you what you need to know. So, I have decided we needed to eat and we will talk. I have taken the liberty of ordering for us already.”  
“Tell us what?” Harry asked. She took a sip of her water and looked at Mycroft tentatively.  
“I hope you do understand that the information I am about to enlighten you both with was never intended to be hidden. It is just information. And now that we are going to be married, it is information that you will need to know. And I hope that you do not take offense to any of it.”   
“Myc, you are scaring me. What is it?” Harry asked. John found his lips forming a thin white line.  
“I had to meet with my lawyer this morning. To begin working on the pre-nuptial agreement.” Harry’s mouth became a tight line, mirroring John’s. “Harriet, I am not doing this because I don’t trust you. It’s not that I think you are going to take advantage of me. It is something that has to be done. It’s procedure.”  
“Procedure?” John asked.  
“Yes, John. My mother’s family was wealthy. Landed gentry. Estate, titles. Everything. We still hold a title. Mother is the Countess of Sussex. I am the Count. The estate is gone. I sold it years ago.”  
“Count?” Harry asked. Her mind was whirling.  
“Yes. And once we marry you will be the Countess. Mother drew up papers years ago allowing my wife to be the countess. She will become the dowager countess. Sherlock is a lord.” John sniggered a bit.  
“I always knew it.” Mycroft laughed a bit too.  
“Yes. Well. Part and parcel of having a title is the need for protection. It’s all very post Diana. Silly in my opinion, but it is what needs to be done. My lawyer will speak to you about the details at a later point in time. However, Sherlock and I both thought you should know more about what you are getting involved in when there is a long term relationship with a Holmes.”  
“What are we talking about here? Money?” John asked.  
“Yes. Dr. Watson. Money.”  
“How much?” Harry blurted out before she could contain it. Her hands flew over her mouth. Mycroft smiled.  
“I know what Sherlock has in the bank.” John said. Mycroft shook his head.  
“No. You don’t.” Mycroft took a sip of his wine and let the waiter place their food in front of them. They each ignored their plates in order to continue their conversation.  
“Well?” John asked.  
“There is a trust for Sherlock. Granted, he ran through most of it when he was in university. However, Anthea did a fantastic job of restocking it. Currently the balance is nearly 9.5.”  
“9.5 what?” John asked, his voice low. Mycroft smiled in what John often called his evil smile.  
“€9.5 million.”  
Harry’s mouth dropped open. John blinked a few times and he excused himself from the table, his phone in his hand. Mycroft turned to Harry. “Would you like to hear the rest?” She nodded mutely. “My last look at the statement, showed that my worth is approximately €20 million. That includes investments and the houses.”  
“Houses? As in more than one?” Harry asked, her throat dry.  
“The one here in London and the one in France. There is a flat in New York and an investment villa in Tahiti. But that’s all.” He said with a wry smile.  
“Four houses.”  
“Yes.”  
“Twenty million euros.”  
“Yes.”  
Harry took in a deep breath and looked at Mycroft. “Fuck.” She growled. “I guess I understand a lot more now.”  
“About what?” Mycroft asked, his voice questioning.  
“About everything. About how you always have such nice clothes. Nice cars. Anything you want is just done. Money does that. I know because I didn’t have it as a kid. And now…”  
“And now, Countess, you can have anything you want.”  
“I can.” She said. John returned to the table and he looked a little flustered still.  
“And how is my brother?” Mycroft asked, picking up his fork and beginning to eat.  
“He’s fine. Still a prat. But, holy shit.” John said.  
“I know.” Harry said.  
“John,” Mycroft said, swallowing his mouth full, “you do understand that now England recognizes civil unions, if you and Sherlock Marry you will also gain a title.”  
“Lord Watson?” Harry asked, bringing a forkful up to her mouth.  
“Yes.” John looked at his food and shook his head.  
“So different from where we started from, eh?” Harry smiled and leaned over to kiss her brother.  
“At least we have each other.” John smiled.  
Harry and Mycroft lingered over coffee after John left. Harry looked at her watch.  
“Are you going back to the office or the house?” she asked.  
“House. Are you coming?” he asked. Harry shook her head.  
“I want to go to a meeting.” Mycroft nodded.   
“I will be working. I will see you soon.” Harry nodded and kissed him. It was a rare public kiss for him and several heads turned and gawked as they kissed. Mycroft let his fingers linger on her face for a moment.  
“I do love you.” He said.  
“I love you too.” She said, her smile radiant.  
Harry raised her hand when it was time to share. She walked up to the make shift podium in the dank basement of the church. Most people were professionals and on their lunch break, trying to deal with the fight to not have a three martini lunch when their profession drove them to it. Stress was the eau de cologne of the room and Harry smiled, thinking she would never have to enter the workforce again, unless she wanted to.  
“Hello, my name is Harry and I am an alcoholic.” She started. The group chanted back their response to her and she smiled. “I think it’s been nearly five months since I had a drink.” There was applause. “And I haven’t been to a meeting in a while. But something fantastic happened this morning and things in my crazy life went a bit crazier just a few moments ago. So, if you will allow, I would like to see if I can put this all into words. Just it get it straight in my own head.”  
“Please. If it will help.” The young woman who moderated the group said. Harry took a deep breath and started.  
“I am divorced. For three years now. I have a younger brother. And I have to tell you about him for a moment. Because my life got crazy with his involvement a bit ago. He is a doctor and was a solider. He was shot in Afghanistan and came home. After his recovery, he met a man who was looking for a flat share. They moved into a great flat together and started a bit of a consulting business. He still worked as a doctor from time to time. And then something happened. My brother’s flat mate killed himself to save my brother. My brother was lost. I was in the middle of my divorce from Clara at that point and I wasn’t there for him. I was drinking the heaviest I ever had. I learned to drink from my alcoholic father who started drinking heavily after my mother killed herself. Fast forward two years. I had a small flat, no wife and my brother, who was still grieving, had begun to move on. He was living with a woman, who frankly never liked me nor I her. He asked her to marry him. Then the flat mate shows back up. He wasn’t dead. He only faked it to save my brother. My brother got married, my sister-in-law was pregnant and my brother’s flat mate killed a man to save my sister-in-law. He was sent away, but only very briefly before he was freed. Not really sure on all the details there. Just after the first of this year, my sister-in-law and my unborn niece were killed. Oh! I forgot. My sister-in-law shot the flat mate, before he killed the man to save her!   
My brother asked me, no begged me, to stop drinking. I refused his help. Until one night I nearly choked to death on my own vomit. I went to see him for help. His flat mate’s brother intervened and sent me to a rehab in Switzerland. And my brother and his flat mate finally realized they were in love. The brother of the flat mate came to see me at rehab. We ended up in a relationship. Shortly after I got home, my new boyfriend was kidnapped and tortured by my sister-in-law’s brother. That’s when I moved in with my boyfriend, in part to help take care of him in his rehabilitation. Then my sister–in-law’s brother shot a friend’s boyfriend the night she told him she was pregnant. My brother used himself as bait to help capture his brother-in-law. Then, my boyfriend’s parents call to tell us that the half-brother of my boyfriend is unexpectedly at their house. I didn’t even know there was another brother until that moment. Anyway, he tells us he’s being chased across the planet by his ex-girlfriend’s father who runs a large drug cartel in Colombia. And he has a daughter. The girlfriend and daughter arrived in England this morning.   
And my wonderful boyfriend? He asked me to marry him this morning. I saw my ex-wife for coffee this morning and we chatted. It was good. And I just left my fiancé and brother from lunch. Where my fiancé told me not only is he rich. Richer than I thought he was but that once we are married, I will be a countess. So, all in all, a rather eventful couple of months. And do you want to know something?” she paused. She looked at the faces of the crowd. They were hanging on her every word. Someone nodded for her to go on. “I have no desire to have a drink. That’s what has me more excited than anything. No desire what so ever. Thank you for listening.” She went to leave and there was no noise in the room. Someone cleared their throat.  
“Your brother.” Harry stopped and turned her head in the direction of the voice. She nodded. “Is he famous?”  
“Maybe. I never gave it much thought. He’s made the papers and been on television. But his boyfriend is famous.”  
“Holmes.” The voice said. Harry smiled and nodded.   
“That’s him.” She grabbed her bag and headed out of the room, listening to the voices explode around the chairs.

Mycroft paced in his office for a moment while John and Sherrinford waited for Isabella to return. She was settling Camilla with Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen so they could talk for a while. He turned when he heard the door shut behind Isabella and he motioned for her to sit down. He didn’t like the idea of working on their brother’s issues without Sherlock present, but he was involved in the case and John would fill him on the details later.  
“So, Mycroft, I can’t say thank you enough for getting Isabella and Camilla here.” Sherrinford said, putting his arm around Isabella.  
“Yes. Well.” He said. John smiled. He knew that in front of him, Mycroft was better at showing his emotions, but Sherrinford was still a relative stranger.  
“I have to be the one to ask, and I am sorry if this is indelicate, but Isabella, how do you feel about all of this?” John asked. She smiled and ducked her head a bit.  
“I am over whelmed. I hate my father, but I love him too. This is difficult. I love Sherrinford. I have missed him all this time. And I have tried to reason with my father. I expect that he will have someone sent to kill both Sherrinford and myself before too much longer.” She said.  
“You are safe here. I have been looking into your father. I have put all his know associates and personnel on the do not enter list with customs. But I suspect that will only delay them, not stop them.” Isabella nodded in agreement.  
“Sherrinford and I still have a lot to work out. And I will talk to my sister-in-law in Miami. I trust her. She is one of the few people I trust. She will tell me what my father is planning.”  
“That will be helpful.” Mycroft said.   
“I will take care of Camilla a bit longer. Sherrinford, take Isabella upstairs. Sit and talk. Take some time, especially now that she’s a bit more refreshed. We will figure out what we need to do tomorrow.” John suggested.  
“I would appreciate that.” Sherrinford said. Mycroft pursed his lips.  
“Isabella, can you get in touch with your sister-in-law this evening?” Isabella shook her head.  
“No. When I left, she said she would send me a message when she could. When it was safe.” Mycroft nodded his head.  
“Her name please.”  
“Alejandra Gomez.” Mycroft nodded his head and sent a text to have her looked at.   
“I will keep an eye on her.” Isabella let out a breath.  
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Thank you for keeping us all safe.”  
“Mycroft. Please.” Isabella came to hug him and Mycroft returned the hug stiffly. Anthea cleared her throat at the doorway and John couldn’t help but smile at Mycroft’s discomfort.  
“Mycroft, we have a phone call to make.” Anthea said. Mycroft looked at his pocket watch and nodded. Sherrinford got up and escorted Isabella out. John went to go and Mycroft held up his hand. He nodded to Anthea and she shut the door.  
“I hope that you understand that I still do not trust him.” Mycroft said.  
“Neither do I. But I think he’s scared. Genuinely scared.” John said. Anthea nodded her head.  
“I agree.” Mycroft said, letting his mask slip. “I don’t know that we are making the right decisions.”  
“We are. We protect our family.” John said through gritted teeth. “If Mary had just asked for help…” he let the rest hang and Mycroft nodded.  
“I am sorry, John.”  
“For what?”  
“For missing what she really was to Moran. I had my suspicions that she wasn’t who she said she was. I believe she might have been one of the snipers at the pool that day.” Mycroft admitted.  
“I thought as much, recently.” John said. “But, that’s enough of this for today. I don’t want to think about it.” Anthea gently stroked his arm.  
“Someday, we need to talk it out – discuss what we all thought and see if we can put a better picture together. I am personally still perplexed by the Hobbit code.” Anthea said. “But, it could be nothing.”  
“True. But knowing Mary, it’s likely something. But you have to work to do, and I have a date with an adorable little girl.” John said. He stood up straighter and stopped with his hand on the door knob. “Thank you for everything, Mycroft. I know I don’t often tell you, but you are a good brother and brother-in-law. I am proud to know you and appreciate how much you do for us all, even if you are an insufferable arse most of the time.” Mycroft chuckled and John left.  
Harry slipped into the kitchen as John and Camilla were talking about American food and his trip to New York. She stood in the doorway and watched them together. She thought for a moment that he would have been a good father. She smiled at him as he looked up.  
“Myc’s in the office with An, working. Come with me; Anthea said she left some toys outside for Camilla.” Harry came in and kissed Mrs. Hudson hello.  
“Hi Camilla. I’m your Auntie Harry.”  
“Hello.” Camilla said.   
“Would you like to go out and see what toys there are?” Harry asked. Camilla nodded her head tentatively. John smiled and he and Camilla followed Harry out to the patio. She eyed the basket for a moment and Harry nodded. Camilla opened the basket and her eyes grew wide.  
Harry sat down in the chair and watched Camilla play. She heard Molly come up and sit down next to her. They chatted for a while and eventually went into dinner. Harry watched Mycroft’s face shift, just a bit and she found herself shifting in her chair in response to Sherrinford and Isabella. Harry was worried that Mycroft was still concerned about the impact of having Sherrinford around.  
Sherrinford and Isabella left to put Camilla to bed after the rest of the guests left. John and Sherlock had agreed to meet back at the house for breakfast to discuss what would happen next. Mycroft sat in his chair in the study and Harry perched on the arm of the chair.  
“How was your meeting?” he asked.  
“It was good. I realized today, that after all that has happened, I don’t want to drink. If I haven’t by now that I won’t.”  
“That’s good.” Mycroft said. He threaded his arm around her waist.  
“I love you.”  
“And I you. Now, I would like to take my fiancé upstairs and make love to her.” Mycroft said. Harry giggled a bit and snuggled in close.  
“That sounds wonderful. But my fiancé is fiercely protective and will be home soon. So, let’s not waste time.”

****************************************

Sherrinford lay in the half darkness of the closed bedroom. Isabella was sleeping next to him on the bed. He wanted to touch her, to hold her in his arms, but there was fear in his heart. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in almost a decade and he wasn’t sure if she was still in love with him. He knew in his heart that she was his one and only true love - the same love he saw in Sherlock’s eyes when he looked at John. But Isabella was tired from a long and fretful journey and she deserved to sleep.  
Isabella had lay down with him hours earlier and Sherrinford had drifted in the in-between space of sleep and wake. He heard voices in the kitchen and he heard people leave. But he wasn’t sure who was still in the flat and who wasn’t. After some time, there was a small knock on the bedroom door and Sherrinford got up to answer it. Isabella stirred in the bed a bit.  
“I’m sorry if I woke you.” John said after Sherrinford closed the door and walked into the hallway a bit.  
“I wasn’t really sleeping.”  
“Mycroft wants me to meet him and my sister for lunch. I made Camilla something to eat and there is some left over Thai in the fridge if you get hungry. Sherlock went out on a case. I’ll be back in a few hours at most to take you and the girls to Mycroft’s.” John explained.  
“Sounds good.” Sherrinford said. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching John. “You know the last time I saw Sherlock was when I came to see Mycroft for help.”  
“Neither of them said.”  
“Mycroft didn’t know I went to see him. Sherlock wouldn’t remember. I ran into him when he was on his college campus. He was high as a kite. He didn’t recognize me. It was for the better. He’s sober now, isn’t he?”  
“Yes. He has other addictions and occasionally, he feels the pull. But he was sober when I met him and there has only been one slip that I know of since. Right after I got married.” John said. Sherrinford nodded.  
“I could see that.”  
“Another story for another time.” John said. “Go, spend some time with your daughter. Get to know her. She’s very smart. We’ve been playing games.”  
“Thanks, John.” Sherrinford placed his hand on John’s arm in a gesture of brotherly love. John nodded and left the flat, shutting the door behind him.  
Sherrinford went into the sitting room to find Camilla sitting at the make shift dining table that also served as a desk. She was eating a sandwich and had a glass of milk. Sherrinford sat down in the empty chair.  
“Hello.” Camilla said.  
“Hi. What kind of sandwich did Uncle John make?” he asked, unsure how to talk to the young girl sitting in front of him.  
“Peanut butter and jelly. It’s not as good as at home.” She said. He smiled.  
“English food is a bit different. But so is Colombian. Have you been to Colombia?” he asked. Camilla’s eyes got wide and she nodded.  
“Loads of times, with Abuelo. He likes to take me to parties there and show me off in my pretty dresses to his friends. I don’t understand all they say. Their Spanish is better than mine. But they also speak it a little differently. They call me a doll and something I’m not allowed to repeat. Something about my daddy.” Camilla stopped for a moment and looked at Sherrinford. “It’s something bad about you.”  
“Most likely. Your Abuleo doesn’t like me.” Sherrinford explained. He made a note to talk to Isabella about what might have been said in front of his daughter.  
“He doesn’t like a lot of people.” She said with a shrug.  
“What would you like to do after lunch?” he asked.  
“I was thinking that I would like to take a nap. I know naps are for little kids, but I’m really tired.” She said. Sherrinford smiled.  
“Naps are for smart people. Naps are your body’s way of repairing itself. It’s very smart to nap.” He said. She smiled.  
“I am smart.”  
“I’ll bet you are.”  
“I’m the smartest one in my class. Everyone says so.”  
“That’s good.”  
“Yeah. Most of the time.” She sighed and put down her sandwich. She looked up at Sherrinford. “Since you are my Daddy, can I tell you something that you can’t tell Mommy?” Sherrinford nodded. “School is hard. Not the work. That’s easy. But the other kids pick on me sometimes. I know the answers before anyone else. I can see the book pages in my head, like a movie. And the other kids say mean things.”  
“Do they hurt you?” he asked, very concerned.  
“No. Just with their words. But I know that I am smarter than them. And I make up stories in my head when I get bored. Plus Maria, the maid, lets me sneak into the library and take out books to read at the house. I am almost done with Narnia and I want to read The Lord of the Rings next.”  
“You read for pleasure?”  
“All the time. But I couldn’t bring any books with me.” Camilla looked forlorn.  
“I bet your uncles have loads of books you could read.” Camilla brightened a bit.  
“You think?”  
“I do. And I bet that we can find you some toys too. What do you like to do?”  
“I love bubbles and jumping rope. I love to run and look at the bugs and the grass. I love to explore.” She rattled off.  
“And get dirty and skin your knees and get lost in your own head.” Her mother said from the door way.  
“Mom. You’re awake!”  
“I am. Have you been having a good time?” she asked as she came to kiss Camilla on the top of her head.  
“I was. Uncle John and I played games and we watched a movie. Daddy and I were just talking. I was telling him about my books.” Sherrinford grinned when she called him Daddy.  
“That’s good, darling.” Isabella smiled at Sherrinford and he looked at her chocolate brown ones.  
“Hungry?” he asked.  
“Yes.” Isabella said. “Did I hear that you wanted to take a nap?” Camilla yawned on cue and nodded. Isabella smiled and showed her where she could lay down in the bedroom. She kissed her on her head and shut the door on her way out. Sherrinford was working on making something to eat for the two of them in the kitchen.  
“John was asked to see Mycroft with his sister and Sherlock had to work.” Sherrinford explained. “It’s just us.”  
“That’s good.” Isabella said. She came up behind Sherrinford and wrapped her slender arms around his waist. “I was waiting to be alone with you where I was more awake.”  
Sherrinford stood still for a moment, leaning back into her a bit. “I missed this.” He said in a whisper.  
“Not half as much as I.” she said.  
“Was there…. Have you been…” he couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions that he wanted so desperately the answers to.  
“There has been no one but you. You are my love.” She said. Sherrinford turned around and pulled her closer to him.  
“I have missed you.” He said. He brought his face down close to hers and breathed in her scent. Spicy and tropical. Warm and delicious. It was everything she was to him and the world fell away for a moment. Their lips met, slowly and cautiously at first. But after a moment, an old practiced rhythm came back and they were kissing furiously in just a breath of time. Sherrinford pulled away to catch his breath and to readjust his jeans.  
“I am glad to see that I can still do that.” She said with a gleam in her eye. Sherrinford laughed, his deep baritone laugh. It had been ages since he felt buoyant enough to laugh this way and he smiled.  
“You always could.”  
“We have a lot to work out.” She said, pulling out a chair and sitting in it. Sherrinford handed her a plate of food and she took the fork and held it in mid-air for a moment. “We cannot just pick up where we left off. And with Camilla, we need to introduce a relationship between us slowly.”  
“I understand.” He said. He sat down next to her and let out a breath. “Besides, your father is coming for me and I don’t know what to do.”  
“I am scared for all of us. He will find us.”  
“I know. Hopefully Mycroft will help.”  
“I think he will. You are his brother after all. And family is thicker than water.” She said. She took a mouthful of food and chewed thoughtfully. “But you seem unsure.”  
“I am. I have never gotten along well with my brothers. They don’t like me much. Not that I have ever given them much reason to. And I know they don’t trust me.” Sherrinford shifted as his ribs ached a bit.  
“You are hurt.” She said, running a fingertip over the bruises on his face. “Who did this to you?”  
“I don’t want to tell you. It’s not important any longer. Sherlock and Mycroft took care of this problem before they knew it was a problem. I will heal.” Isabella got up from the table and went into the bathroom. She returned with two white tablets and Sherrinford took them.  
“I am assuming they are some sort of pain killer. I hope they bring some relief.” Isabella said. Sherrinford nodded.  
They cleaned up their lunch dishes and sat on the sofa, hands threaded together, talking about their lives. Isabella still worked for her father, but spent less and less time with him directly. She hated what he did and she had wanted to leave for a long time. She knew that he and his men often used Camilla a butt of their jokes, since they knew that her father was the American who left his unmarried daughter. Isabella held her head high and tried to plan a way out.  
Sherrinford was listening to Isabella catching him up on her family when John arrived home. He looked flushed and flustered. He smiled as he said hello and went to his lap top. After some typing he sat back and looked at the screen for a while. Sherrinford cocked his head and watched him for a minute.  
“Is everything alright?” he asked. John looked up, as if he had forgotten there were other people in the room.  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Too many years of living with Sherlock. I’m sorry. I forget sometimes that real people need you to talk and not read their minds.” He smiled.  
“Read their minds?” Isabella asked.  
“It’s a Sherlock thing.” John explained, badly. Sherrinford laughed.  
“It’s really better to watch it. Maybe we can get him to deduce something later.” Isabella shook her head and John laughed.  
“Let’s not scare her quite yet. She’ll understand when she gets to spend some time with his lordship.” John laughed at himself for a moment and looked at his watch. “Tea?”   
“I would love some coffee, if you have it.” Isabella asked. John smiled and nodded. Sherrinford went into the kitchen with John.  
“All right then?” John asked.  
“Yes. For now. What time are we expected?”  
“Whenever we want. Anthea and Mycroft are at the house. Harry will got when… well whenever.”   
“Sherlock?”   
“He is working. I expect that he and our friend Greg will come together later. When they are done working.” John made the coffee and Sherrinford fixed two cups. Isabella took a sip.  
“You remembered.” She said.  
“Yes.” John smiled.  
“When Camilla wakes up, we will go.” Isabella said, resting her head on Sherrinford’s shoulder. “Do what you need to do. We are fine.” John smiled and nodded. He went downstairs to talk to Mrs. Hudson.  
Isabella settled Camilla in the kitchen with Mrs. Hudson so she could go talk with Mycroft. The house was large and Isabella was impressed with the coziness she felt in it. It was so different from the large open spaces her father preferred. She went to study and closed the door behind her. Mycroft stopped pacing and she sat next to Sherrinford.  
They talked for a short time and after John suggested they talk more, Isabella felt her stomach drop. She didn’t want to burst the tiny bubble she had been floating in since she landed in England. Sherrinford held her hand as they climbed the stairs to the rooms on the second floor. Sherrinford led her into his room and shut the door.  
Isabella chose to sit on the settee and Sherrinford sat in a chair across from her.  
“Well, I guess this is where we talk about the bad stuff.” He said. His brash American accent held a hint of Boston.  
“I guess so.”  
“What the hell is your father going to do?” Isabella closed her eyes.  
“If we are lucky? Kill you, maybe kill me, and hurt Camilla. Then, use her as an example not to get involved with the Americans.” She said, her voice serious and dry.  
“You should have never had to live this life.” Sherrinford said. “It’s not a life for a woman like you.”  
“And what? It’s better for other women?” she asked, getting defensive.  
“That’s not what I’m saying. It’s not a life for anyone. I should have taken you with me.”  
“You couldn’t.”  
“I should have.” He said. “I was ruined when I left.”  
“So was I. And I was pregnant. With your child.” She spat. “But I stayed. It was better for all of us that I did. He would have hunted me down if I left.”  
“And he will now too.”  
“Yes.”  
“You know that before this is over he will either be dead or in jail. You understand that?” Sherrinford asked her, holding her gaze with his.  
“I do. Death is preferred.” She let out a breath. “I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of worrying about Camilla and what he might do to her. I’m tired of worrying about you. I just want to breathe and to live.” Sherrinford fell to his knees in front of her and grabbed her hands.  
“I’m sorry.” He rested his forehead on her hands.  
“I forgive you.” She said. Her hands felt wet under his tears. They sat of a while, Isabella running her fingers through his hair. “It was longer before.”   
“Yes.” He said.  
“I like it.” Her smile was a little sad. “I want so badly to go back. To what we were before. But we have both seen and done things. It won’t be easy.”  
“I know.” He said. “I don’t care what happens. As long as I can have you and Camilla near me. That’s enough.”  
“For now. And some day, maybe soon, we can reclaim some of the happiness we had.” Sherrinford nodded. Isabella pulled him up next to her. He put his arm around her and she settled into him for a while.  
They sat, lost in their own thoughts for a while, until there was knock on the door. Sherlock pushed into the room and looked at them sitting on the settee.  
“Dinner.” He said. Sherrinford looked at him and Sherlock surveyed the scene.  
“Thank you. We will be down in a moment.” Sherrinford answered.  
“Fine.” Sherlock looked at Isabella for a moment and turned on his heel and left.  
“He’s a bit loco.” Isabella said with a laugh. She got up and stretched.  
“That he is. But he’s a genius. Good at what he does.” Sherrinford pulled her in close for a moment and kissed her deeply.  
“They are waiting.” Isabella protested for a moment, before she reached up and kissed him again herself. Sherrinford laughed and grabbed her hand. They went to the dining room.  
Isabella knocked on the door to Sherrinford’s room and entered. “She’s asleep.”  
“That’s good. It’s a bit much for her.”   
“I like your brother’s family. John is lovely.” She said. “He’s been good for Camilla.”  
“John is nice. But don’t let him fool you. I think would do some real damage if he needed to.” Isabella sat on the end of the bed. Sherrinford sat down next to her. “Are you happy?”  
“For the moment.”  
“I… What I meant…” she cut him off.  
“I know what you meant. I am happy. I am glad I decided to come. I’ve dreamt of this for a long time. And now, we are together again. But, I’m waiting for the next call. The next thing to happen. And it frightens me.”  
“Me too.” He said. He pulled her close and her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. It was her sister-in-law.  
“Papa is en route. Blood in his eyes. Be careful. XX”  
“Thank you. We are safe. XX”  
“I’ll call when I can.”  
Isabella put her phone away and lay back on the bed. “I want to make a request of you.” Sherrinford looked at her.  
“Anything in my power.”  
“Make love to me. Hold me as we sleep. We may not have much time.” Sherrinford watched her for a moment. She lifted her eyebrows and he came to lay next to her.  
“That is the one thing I can definitely do.”

*************************************

John stood in front of the book case, looking at the different games that were stacked haphazardly. He wasn’t sure what Camilla would like to play. Sherlock sat at his microscope in the kitchen, looking at something. John pulled out Operation and put it on the floor. Camilla sat next to him.  
“Have you ever played this?” he asked.  
“Yes. I’m not very good.” She said, her face a little sad.  
“Well, that’s fine. I’m a doctor. I can teach you how to be steady.” Sherlock made a choking noise in the kitchen and John shot him a look.  
“Not a word out of you.” He said. Sherlock scrunched his face and went back to his study. John and Camilla were practicing the skills of surgeons when the doorbell rang and the door opened.  
“Lestrade.” Sherlock said. John picked his head up, but Camilla didn’t see the man enter the kitchen. After a moment listening to Sherlock talk to Lestrade John got up from the floor and went into the kitchen. He took one look at Sherlock and could tell he was almost begging John for permission to go to work. John wanted him with him, but he knew that it would be unbearable if he stayed and Camilla didn’t need to see Sherlock in a strop. John sent him on his way. He returned to his game with Camilla.  
“Are you and Uncle Sherlock boyfriends?” she asked, as she watched John pull out a butterfly from the stomach.  
“Yes.” He said with trepidation.  
“Oh, okay.” Camilla took her turn and took out the heart without a problem.  
“Does your Mommy have a boyfriend?” John asked.  
“Nope. Just Daddy.” Camilla said.  
“Do you have a boyfriend?” John teased.  
“I’m not old enough.” Camilla giggled. John smiled and looked at his phone. He had a text from Anthea.  
“MH would like you and HW to join him for lunch at the club. There is something he needs to discuss with you both. Car will be there in twenty minutes. – A” John put his phone down and finished cleaning up with Camilla.  
“Hungry?” he asked. She nodded her head.  
Sherlock looked over the body once again with his pocket magnifier. There was a dull and ragged edge to the wounds and he was sure that it was an older kitchen knife. His phone rang in his pocket and he dragged it out. He grimaced when he saw the caller ID - Mycroft.  
His conversation with his brother was brief and he sighed as he hung up the phone. He hated to think about his title and his money. It was something that was old and stuffy, and he wanted nothing to do with it. But he knew that Mycroft was right. John deserved to know and if he was going to be his husband one day, then he needed to know about it. His phone pinged a text and he looked at it. He looked at Lestrade and rattled off a few details about the case. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the morgue and down to the street. He leaned against the building and lit a cigarette. He took the first drag deeply and smiled. He reread his text.  
“Having lunch with Harry and Mycroft. He said he needed to tell me something. Anything you want to tell me before he does?-JW” Sherlock replied.  
“Nothing that is important to me. I don’t think you’ll be upset at the news. Just shocked. Call me after he tells you. I want to hear your voice.-SH”  
“What’s wrong? You sound…. different. Should I be worried? Are you… doing something you shouldn’t be?-JW”  
“No. I am clean. Have been for a while. I just miss you. It’s strange not having you here at my side. I feel empty.-SH”  
“I know. I have to make something for Camilla to eat. I’ll call you later. I love you.-JW”  
“I love you too. –SH”  
Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket and stubbed out his cigarette. Lestrade found him and they took off for the crime scene.  
John put his phone to his ear and listened to the ring. Sherlock picked up on the second one.  
“You fucking bastard.” John said.   
“So, what do you think?” Sherlock said, walking away from Lestrade and the rest.  
“What? You can’t deduce it?” John asked, his voice half angry, half laughing.  
“I can. But I’m trying not to. I want to hear it from you.” Sherlock said, his voice smiling.  
“Nine. Million. Euros. Lord. Holmes.” John started laughing in earnest. Sherlock could hear the traffic from the street on the phone. John had gone outside to call him.  
“And if you finally answer me seriously about marrying me, you could have it all. And be Lord Watson.”  
“I have always answered you seriously. I knew there was a reason you always acted like a wanker.” John said. “Does Lestrade know?”  
“I think he does. But only because Anthea told him.” Sherlock said. He leaned against a brick wall. “Meet me. I want to work this case with you. It’s boring and Anderson is an arse.”  
“Anderson will still be an arse even if I’m there. I need to get back in and finish talking to the count and countess. Then I have to collect the others. I will see you at Mycroft’s later. And when we get home tonight….” John voice dropped an octave.   
“I will hold you to that.” Sherlock said, his voice deeper than normal and John took a sharp breath in. “John.” Sherlock said. It was the right tenor and John felt it go straight to his groin.  
“Shut it. You know what that does to me and I cannot go back in there with a hard on. You will pay for this later.” John growled.  
“And having me walk around a crime scene in the same state is better, Captain Watson?” John laughed and Sherlock joined him.  
“Will we ever stop?” John asked.  
“I hope not.” Sherlock said with a smile.  
“Until then.”  
“I miss you.” Sherlock said quietly.  
“Me too.” John said. “Get back to work.”  
“Keep Mycroft away from the cake.” John chucked and rang off his mobile. Sherlock walked back to the scene and instructed Anderson where to find the correct evidence that they needed to make the case. He shifted a bit as he bent down and Lestrade shook his head at him.  
Sherlock began texting John as Lestrade was glassy eyed in front of the paperwork. John wasn’t answering and Sherlock suspected it was because he was with Camilla. But he kept at it anyway.  
“Case solved. It was a suicide, but the body was carved up from a gang related initiation. Boring-SH”  
“Lestrade is making me do paperwork.-SH”  
“Lestrade says he’s not working tomorrow. So no cases. I might be bored.-SH”  
“Can you find ways to entertain me tomorrow?-SH”  
“I miss you.-SH”  
“I love Captain Watson.-SH”  
“Let’s get married.-SH”  
“Make sure that Mycroft leave me at least a piece of Mrs. Hudson’s chocolate cake.-SH”  
“Finally on my way. I can’t wait to kiss you.-SH”  
John pulled out his phone that had been buzzing in his pocket for some time. He figured there was no need to indulge Sherlock at that moment and if there was something truly wrong, Anthea would have heard from Greg and would tell him. He stood alone for a moment and read through the messages.   
“I’m in the garden. Find me and I will kiss you.-JW”  
“Like I said, I love Captain Watson.-SH”  
John smiled and put his phone back in his pocket. He was talking to Mycroft and Anthea when Sherlock and Greg arrived. They were both in good moods and Sherlock was laughing at something Greg had said in the hallway. John smiled the instant their eyes met and they found themselves holding tight to one another and kissing in the garden, their friends and family looking on.  
“So, are you going to answer any of my other texts?” Sherlock whispered in his ear. John smiled and gave him a little shove. Sherlock grabbed his hand and threaded his fingers through his.  
“Not now. Captain Watson is off duty. But maybe later…” He winked at Sherlock who made a small growl in his throat. Mycroft cleared his throat as they were handed a glass of cider to toast the engagement.  
Mrs. Hudson announced dinner and she pulled Sherlock aside.  
“Please go find your brother and Isabella.” She said. “I think they went up to the bedroom. And be nice.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and went upstairs.  
Sherlock paused outside the door and listened for a moment. He knocked once and entered the room. They were sitting on the settee and Sherlock looked at his brother. For one instant he saw that Sherrinford was a sham and that Isabella was riddled with fear. She looked like a deer does when headlights shine on it.   
“Dinner” was all he said. He deduced them both and walked out of the room without another word. John noticed he was less than happy when he came back and John leaned over to whisper in his ear.  
“Eat. If you don’t, you will not be seeing Captain Watson tonight.” He said. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, but John’s face was a hard line.  
“Fine.” Sherlock ate some, not as much as John would have liked, but Sherlock tried to be charming to Molly and tried to interact with Camilla. But the girl was tiring and Molly had most of her attention talking about Disney and Mickey Mouse. John laughed a bit at a thought of Sherlock being dragged around the theme park by their child. John almost dropped his fork as he thought about it.  
John found himself distracted for the rest of the night. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he has made a decision without talking to Sherlock. That they were going to have children. He didn’t know if Sherlock had ever thought about it. John didn’t even remember agreeing to meet the next morning for breakfast until they were in the car and most of the way home.  
“Where are you?” Sherlock asked gently was he took John’s hand in his own.  
“What? Oh, Sorry, love. I was just thinking.”  
“I know. About what?”  
“You can’t deduce it?” John asked, slightly exasperated.  
“No. I can’t always tell what you are thinking. And your face was a bit scary.”  
“I’m sorry.” John said, sighing. “I was lost in a thought and over-thinking a fleeting image.”  
“Sounds like something you would do.” Sherlock said with a snort. John glared at him and Sherlock laughed. “You do tend to worry things.”  
“I do.”  
“You want to tell me what it was?” John shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk about it.   
“Did we agree to meet them for breakfast?” John asked. Sherlock nodded grimly. “Text Mycroft in the morning. I do not plan on getting out of bed too early. I want to make you come three times before the dawn and I am hoping for a bit of a lie in.”  
“Three?” Sherlock asked, his right eye brow raised.  
“Yes.”  
“Sounds like a challenge.”  
“One that I am sure you will take on.” John said. Sherlock smiled and pulled him close. His lips found John’s and gentle kisses and traces with tips of their tongues turned into passionate kisses with teeth and sucking. By the time they reached Baker Street, their lips were swollen and they were both more than half hard. John opened the door, hearing Mrs. Hudson’s radio playing down the hall. She was home safe and they started up the stairs, once hitting the first landing, beginning to pull clothes off and leaving a trail up to their bedroom.  
“Bed. Now.” John said, his voice deep and commanding. Sherlock moaned in pleasure as he scurried up the steps, John’s laugher pealing behind him.


	28. The Showdown at the Baker Street Corral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of part 2.... Stay tuned for part three.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.... so here we are... The end of part 2. This is a cliff hanger. I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist.  
> Thank you all for staying tuned and I hop that you will enjoy part 3 as much!  
> It's a work in progress and it is going to be fun... at least I hope so.  
> Thank you again to my beta.... mafm.... you are fantastic.
> 
> I should be posting again shortly. Got to get back to writing as fast as I had been. Life is getting in the way and with Mother's day fast approaching... Thank you all for the wonderful comments. They have meant a lot to me. It's helping me get over the fear and anxiety of putting myself out there for the first time. It's been thrilling to say the least! Keep them coming.... please!
> 
> So.... without further ado... enjoy

Chapter 28- Showdown at the Baker Street Corral

John rolled over in the bed, panting and sweaty. He was sated and tired. He nudged Sherlock with his elbow. Sherlock was momentarily blissed out and quite quiet. “You need to text your brothers before you pass out.”   
“I know.” Sherlock whined.  
“So, do it. I’m going to get some water. Then we are going to sleep.” John cautioned. Sherlock dramatically flopped over to reach his cell phone.  
“Not coming to breakfast. Sleeping in. Meet later. Will text later.- SH”   
“Fine. Miami made contact. Father en route. Be careful.- MH” Sherlock looked at the message and sighed.  
“Isabella’s father is on his way to London.” Sherlock said as John came back to bed. John groaned.  
“I guess we need to get up, then.” He said. Sherlock shook his head.  
“We need to sleep for a couple of hours. We will have to see if he makes a move first.” Sherlock said. John lay back on the bed and Sherlock curled around him. “I’ve set the alarm for three hours.”  
“That’s better than nothing.” John said, his voice getting thick with sleep. Sherlock kissed John’s neck.  
“Sex and sleep. That’s good enough for me.” John smiled a bit and nestled into Sherlock’s front. They were both asleep in no time at all.

****************************************

Sherrinford tore his room apart. He couldn’t find his necklace. He didn’t wear it around his neck, but having its comfortable weight in his pocket was enough of a talisman for him. He cursed loudly. Isabella came into the room to see what was wrong.  
“I have lost my necklace. I think I left it at Sherlock’s.”   
“So, we will go get it. Mycroft said that Sherlock and John are already on their way. I need to get out a bit. Let’s take Camilla and go for a ride. We will be back shortly.” She said, running her hand over his arm and fingering her own necklace. “I understand the need to have something to hold onto.”  
Sherrinford climbed into the back of the car and sent John a text.  
“I think I left my necklace at the flat. It’s important to me. We are on our way to get it now. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson will let me in. May I let Camilla look at books to borrow?-Sherrinford”  
“Yes. Don’t be too long. We need to begin to discuss options.- JW”  
“I know. We won’t be too long. But the girls were beginning to go stir crazy. Getting them out will help.- Sherrinford.”  
“Understood.-JW”  
Sherrinford noticed that the front door was unlocked and figured that John had called Mrs. Hudson to let her know they were on their way. He closed the door after the girls went in and followed them up the stairs. Camilla let out a small yelp and Sherrinford felt a sharp blow on the back of his head before everything went dark.

*************************************

Mycroft watched the CCTV footage again on his laptop. Sherrinford went into the house and shut the door. The driver slumped in his seat. No one else went in or out.   
“We need to go there.” John said.  
“No.” Sherlock said, firmly. He was texting with Lestrade.  
“Say what you will about Sherrinford and I truly doubt that Isabella is innocent, but Camilla. She’s just a child.”  
“And if this her grandfather, there is little chance he will hurt her.” Sherlock offered.  
“And you didn’t hear her stories. The things she told me while we were playing. Her grandfather treats her like a lesson - for his employees not to get involved with Americans. She is the shining example of what not to do.” John offered. Mycroft took in a sharp breath.  
“We need to go.” John said finally. Sherlock got up from his seat begrudgingly.   
“Lestrade will be there as soon as he can. He’s working a fatal domestic in King’s Bridge.” John nodded, patting the small of his back. He felt the regular weight of his Army issued gun there. Sherlock was not armed.

**************************************  
Sherrinford’s eyes were thick and hard to open at first. He noted a renewed pain in his head, and his wrists and ankles were bound. He opened his eyes quickly and found Isabella and Camilla sitting on the sofa, side by side. They were not bound or hurt. But they had been crying. A man sat in the chair near the sofa, loosely holding a gun on them. Sherrinford lifted his head and the man in front of him came into view.  
“Victor.” Sherrinford spat.  
“Howard. Good to see you again. And I must thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“Two things. A wonderful little granddaughter to call my own and this lovely trip. I needed to get out of Miami. It’s good to see other places.” His voice was thickened with his Colombian accent and edged with laughter.  
Sherrinford blinked a few times and Victor came into better focus. He was thicker around the middle than he was ten years previous and his hair was now mainly silver. It was still slicked against his squared head and his shoulders were still as broad as they had been. Sherrinford didn’t doubt for a moment that Victor could still pack a mean right hook and he wasn’t in the mood to test his theory.  
“What do you want, Victor?” Sherrinford said.  
“I have been looking for you for a long time.”  
“And now you found me.”  
“I never lost you. I have known that you were working for the CIA for a long time. But I couldn’t hurt you while my lovely Izzy was in love with you. Then you came to Europe. I don’t know why. But after that, after the problems that you faced in Colombia, I knew that I needed to kill you then. But you left. I watched. I waited. I found out about the baby. My darling Camilla. I decided that I would let Izzy contact you once. And then, when I was ready, nada. I couldn’t get to you. I was stopped at every chance.” Victor said.  
“I know. It was protection for me. And protection for Isabella and Camilla.” Sherrinford said. For the first time he was grateful for Moran and Moriarty.  
“I don’t know who it was. But about ten days ago, I got a phone call. They told me you were here. I was in New Orleans. Cici wanted to see the French Quarter.” Victor waved his gun about. “You were in England. And you were no longer protected. Then the day we were to arrive back in Miami, Izzy and Camilla were gone.”  
“They are where they belong.” Sherrinford said. He looked at Isabella who smiled at him. “They were coming to me.”  
“And now, this is over. I am going to kill you. In front of them. And then I am taking my daughter and my granddaughter home. To my house, where they belong.” His voice exploded in a yell at the last line and Camilla jumped a bit on the sofa.

****************************************

Sherlock looked at the front door of 221B Baker Street. The lock had been picked and the door left open. He stepped inside the entry and listened. John pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and gently slid the chamber to pull a round. Sherlock ran his finger along John’s cheek and rested it under his chin. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. There were voices upstairs, but they were too muffled to understand. Sherlock picked his way up the stairs avoiding the ones that creaked under any weight.  
John followed and jumped a bit at the explosion of sound as Victor yelled at Sherrinford. Sherlock continued up the stairs towards the bedroom. He had a better view of the sitting room and he was somewhat hidden from the people sitting there.  
Sherrinford felt the movement more than he saw it. He looked at Camilla. She was scared and crying. Her mother was holding her and murmuring to her in Spanish. Sherrinford sent a mental message to his brother for protection and ruthlessness.  
Victor heard the car door shut down stairs and walked to the window. He saw nothing that would cause alarm and John sent out a silent prayer. He knew that car door was Lestrade. They had left the door open and he knew that Lestrade would see it as a cause for alarm. Lestrade knew the house well and knew where to step to minimize noise. He had made it most of the way up the stairs when he saw Sherlock and John hidden in the shadows.  
Sherlock held up two fingers - two people. John held up two as well - two guns. Lestrade nodded and looked towards the room. There was no other way into the flat that wouldn’t cause noise. Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a rapid text message. Sherrinford’s phone pinged in his pocket. Victor pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the text message.  
“What does this mean? Down in three?”  
“Who is it from?” Sherrinford asked. He looked at Isabella who nodded just a bit.  
“Yes, Papa. Who sent it?” Her eyes locked with Sherrinford’s. She pulled Camilla just a bit closer.  
“Sherlock.” Victor said. “Who is this Sherlock?”  
“My brother. My youngest brother.” Sherrinford said.  
“What kind of name is that?” Victor laughed. The other man holding the gun laughed too.  
“It’s the name of a brave man.”  
“So, what does it mean?” Victor asked.  
“It means. To get down. In three… Two… One.” Sherrinford said. He and Isabella ducked, pulling Camilla to the floor. Seven shots rang out and the sitting room was fogged with gun smoke. There was a scream and a painful swear.


End file.
